


Tiene Sith

by ChemiToo



Category: Celtic Mythology, Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Celtic Mythology & Folklore, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-29
Updated: 2018-04-13
Packaged: 2018-05-10 06:10:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 69,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5573800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChemiToo/pseuds/ChemiToo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Betrayed and exiled, one of the Fae finds himself in the care of a rather peculiar human and his brother.<br/>Rating subject to change, maybe possibly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Spark

Nervous whispers followed him as he was led down the elaborate, winding halls. The corridor, hewn of painstakingly smoothed soil, glittered with small stones in the light of the torches lining the walls. The sconces blazed with green flame, illuminating his path as he was "escorted" to the grand hall of the Folk.

He proudly held his head aloft, defiantly meeting several anxious stares as members of the Court lined the walls, talking lowly amongst themselves and eyeing him warily. He snorted as one woman actually squeaked upon making eye-contact with him, wide lavender eyes quickly fleeing from the stare of confident emerald ones. Confidence was something he had always exuded, marking his place among the Folk as one not to be trifled with. Not that he _wasn't_ nervous, but he absolutely couldn't show it. The Court would look upon any fear as weakness, and he would be dismissed as cowardly. This, he simply could not allow.

He snarled as one of the guards clutched onto his shoulder as they paused, waiting for a large stone door to be opened. The soil lurched and crumbled as the stone was pressed, the circular door rolling elegantly into the crevice carved into the wall. It grated loudly against the floor, gravel popping angrily as it was crushed.

He threw a glare over his shoulder as the guard roughly shoved him forward, through the doorframe and into the high-ceilinged grand hall. The torches along the walls here burned a brilliant silver, flooding the circular chamber with dappled, flickering light. It mingled with the soft glow of the spirits floating in lazy circles along the length of the ceiling. "Will-'o'-th'-wisps," the humans called them when they entered the world of mortals. Funny name for such beautiful creatures.

The silver flames danced along the walls, catching the bright stones and flecks of ore between the waiting members of the Court. They were donned in their finest tonight, brilliant colors and patterns on flowing robes spilling out onto the smooth floor of the chamber. Of course, everyone wanted to look his best for the celebration taking place above, once the mortals left.

His eyes flickered across the Court, quickly finding the glimmering hem of the Queen's robes. Her gown was the same radiant amethyst as her eyes, purple waves cascading from her throne and out onto the floor. Her hair, black as night, was bedecked with glittering pearls--gifts from the Selkies, he was certain. Her face, pale and iridescent moonlight incarnate, was stern as she looked upon him.

The room instantly went silent.

"My Queen," he said after a moment's pause, "to what do I owe this...summons?" he asked politely as he moved to bow, but was restrained by the guards' hands clasping tightly onto both of his shoulders. He glared at them, narrowing his eyes.

"I believe you already know," the Queen answered coldly, rapping her slim fingertips on the armrest of her throne.

"I am afraid I do not," he answered quickly, heart in his mouth. Surely she could not have found out. It simply wasn't possible, not with the precautions he--both of them--had taken.

The look in those slanted violet eyes said otherwise as she sat straight and tall in her seat, tilting her head back to regally glare down at him. A few of the Court members shifted nervously, crossing legs or wringing hands in their laps as the heavy silence continued.

"You were plotting to overthrow me," the Queen whispered, drawing a few shocked gasps of horror from the Folk in the room.

He felt sick.

"M-my Queen, I am afraid you are mistaken--" he stammered, fighting to retain some sense of composure.

Damn him, that cowardly bastard. _Damn him--_

"I am never mistaken," she answered curtly as she snapped her pale fingers.

He protested as he was abruptly stripped of his clothing, beautiful crimson raiment torn to shreds as two of the guards restrained him. The fabric fell in tatters to the floor as he looked up in horror, naked...exposed...

...guilty.

The Queen had risen to her feet as he was humiliated, studying him with narrowed eyes and a sinister smile. Her hair and robes sighed against the floor as she stepped closer to him, reaching out and touching his forehead with a slim finger. He jumped in spite of himself; her touch was frigid.

"You are no longer a part of my Court," she hissed, "I have no use for traitors,"

He gulped, fighting to control his breathing as the room began to spin.

"What are you...?" he managed as he staggered, the guards holding fast to his arms as they began dragging him out of the chamber.

The Queen merely smirked, the vengeful glint in her violet eyes the last thing he knew.

* * *

Notes: Aw yeah more mythology stuff! Celtic this time. The Folk (Fae, faeries, etc.) live in mounds underground, driven there by a war long ago. There are tribes of them, ruled over by Court and respective Queen. The Fae are described as being beautiful and having very soothing, smooth voices. They are everywhere in Celtic mythology, and whether or not they are good or evil is never quite concrete. "Will-'o'-th'-wisps" are mysterious lights often seen at night over bogs or marshy areas, believed to be evil spirits that lure unsuspecting humans to their deaths. Selkies are creatures that live in the sea, taking the form of a seal while in the water and the form of very graceful, fair humans while on land. It is said that the Selkie needs to don a seal pelt in order to return to the sea once he/she takes on human form. If one manages to hide the seal pelt from the Selkie, he/she will be trapped on land. Some myths tell of men hiding seal pelts in order to wed Selkie women. Jerks. 


	2. Flare

"This way!" Matt shouted at him as he raced toward the festival, "Hurry up!" he scolded.

"Coming, coming," Alfred grumbled as he shoved his hands into his pockets. They were stuffed with marigolds and primroses--Matt's doing. He sighed, looking up into the evening sky. As much as he loved summer, he hated festivals. Every year it was the same routine, over and over again, with the same outcome. Alfred would drag himself (and Matt) back to their cottage, exhausted, and life would plod onward just as it always had. Dull, listless, and monotonous.

The sky was starting to fill with stars, winking at him, mocking him.

"Shut up," he grumbled as he followed his brother to the hill. The fire had already begun, and villagers were excitedly dancing in circles around it as music played. The May Bush had been adorned with all manner of plants and ribbons, adornments twinkling in the firelight as Alfred approached. Matt was already speaking to the villagers, chattering excitedly as he produced hazel and Alfred could only guess what other plants from his pockets.

He flinched as his brother whirled around to face him.

"Alfred, hurry up!" he said teasingly, "We haven't added our offerings to the May Bush yet,"

"We _already have_ a May Bush at home," Alfred grumbled.

"Ah, a ray of sunshine as always, aren't we?" one of the villagers laughed, raising an eyebrow at him that clearly indicated that Alfred was on notice. Grumpiness was simply not tolerated at Beltane, especially not by the village elder. He was like an adoptive father to the both of them, watching over them from a distance now that they were old enough to have their own home. He and his wife had taken Matt and Alfred in after their mother's death years ago. Despite Alfred being eighteen years of age, though, Fhinn was still as stern as he was when Alfred was only a boy.

"Of course, Sir," Alfred lied as he plastered a false grin to his face, "I'll just be decorating the May Bush now,"

"Good lad," Fhinn stated with a nod as Alfred hurried to complete said task. He kept his head down, avoiding eye-contact as much as possible while he hastily threw splintered stalks of marigolds and squashed primrose petals onto the town's collective May Bush. The shrub was already heavily ladened with ribbons, plants, and trinkets that caught the firelight--

He jumped as someone approached from behind him.

"Hey, Alfred!" Gil shouted as he clapped a hand on his shoulder.

"Hey yourself," Alfred growled as he hurled the remaining contents of his pockets at the May Bush and stalked away from it.

"What the hell's your problem?" Gil demanded as he pursued him, "Uh, the bonfire's _that_ way, genius," he said flatly, gesturing toward the glow of the fire behind them.

"I'm not going to the bonfire," Alfred answered curtly, hunching his shoulders as he stalked away from the festival and buried his hands into his pockets. Gods, he just wanted to be alone. Was that too much to ask for?

"What?!" Gil blurted, darting out in front of him and pressing his hands into Alfred's chest to keep him at bay, "No, no--you're going to dance around the bonfire like a good pagan,"

"I'm tired, Gil--" Alfred whined.

"Just one lap around the fire, that's all," Gil persisted as he shook his head, "Alfred, it's not like it's Lughnasadh or something,"

"Yeah, but I'll bet you wish it was, though," Alfred said with a raised brow, smirking in spite of himself, "Bet you can't wait for Elizabeth to put her hand through that wooden door--"

"Shut up," Gil hissed as he punched Alfred in the shoulder, who laughed. Alfred was certain the tips of his friend's ears had turned scarlet, but couldn't tell in the dim light, "Come on, let's get to that bonfire, yeah?"

"Yeah," Alfred conceded as he followed his friend toward the festivities.

"Awesome!" Gil praised as he clapped his hands and joined the throng of Beltane revelers as they whirled and spun elegantly around the bonfire. Alfred reluctantly joined in, spinning a few times and trying to keep up. People were laughing, applauding and chattering excitedly as the members of his village paraded around the grassy knoll in circles around the flames. He caught Matt from across the fire, merrily holding hands with a rather pretty blonde girl. Alfred had seen her in town, but her name escaped him at the moment.

He looked up as a rather tall brunette woman whirled past, winking at the line of dancers with pretty jade eyes and an orange-colored marigold in her hair. Alfred grunted as he slammed headlong into Gil, who had stopped dead. He was staring after her, mouth agape. Alfred rolled his eyes as he shook his head and chuckled. Elizabeth had always captivated Gil, ever since they were small. Some things never changed, it appeared.

"Oh, for the love of--" Alfred teased.

"I'm gonna jump," Gil blurted, rubbing his hands together excitedly as he turned back toward the bonfire.

"What?" Alfred asked, blinking.

"Over the fire," Gil elaborated with a triumphant wave of his arm.

"...what?" Alfred repeated, dumbstruck, "Gil, that's--"

"The perfect way to get her to notice me!" Gil declared, a mischievous glint in his eye, "Come on, Alfred, look--the fire's not that high yet. This is gonna be AWESOME!" he shouted as he ran at the bonfire as fast as possible.

"GIL, WAIT--!" Alfred blurted, but it was too late. His friend had already launched himself at the flames, sailing over them with a wild whoop. Alfred winced as Gil tumbled clumsily to the ground on the other side of the fire. He dashed over toward him amid the applause and cheers of the approving crowd.

"...oww..." Gil moaned as Alfred helped him up.

"You all right?" Alfred asked worriedly as he looked him over.

"I'm better than all right," Gil breathed excitedly as he looked around, "I'm AWESOME! Did she see me?!"

"I don't know, but you're on fire," Alfred sighed.

"Damn right I am," Gil said proudly, puffing his chest out.

"No, your pants," Alfred corrected as he pointed down at the hem of his friend's trousers. Small bursts of flames were nipping at his ankles, creeping up his boots.

"Oh SHIT," Gil blurted as he hurriedly put the fire out with his hands, smacking his legs repeatedly as Alfred laughed.

* * *

Beltane didn't turn out to be all bad, Alfred figured, but by the time the third hour had passed and the moon was shining bright and full in the night sky, he was ready to leave. He slipped away from the crowd, slinking into the darkness and following the familiar path home through the Moor. Matt hated it there, said the place made him uneasy--especially at night, but Alfred was fond of it. The Moor made him feel...at peace, somehow, in the tranquil quiet, save for the sounds of crickets and wind rustling past the plants.

The villagers abhorred the place, which probably explained Alfred's fascination. Inhabited by the Fair Folk, they claimed, a land both cursed and sacred. Fhinn had sworn he had seen one of the Fae once, scampering along the low hills at dusk before disappearing underground. Of course, Alfred attributed his testimony to him trying to deter Alfred and Matt from running off and getting lost. That didn't stop Alfred from looking around vigilantly as he passed through the soft, boggy lowlands, though, hoping to catch a glimpse of something otherworldly.

For all of Fhinn's warning about the Moor being dangerous, Alfred had never felt anxious about passing through the place. The ground was stable here, mostly free from stone and lined with soft peat. Besides, with the moon overhead it wasn't that dark. The path he had memorized long since he was a boy was illuminated in dappled silver light, shrubs and grasses draped in pearly white mist. He stopped a drew a deep breath, taking in his surroundings. The air was thick here, heavy and filled with moisture and the musky scent of earth.

He froze, pausing as a small flicker of green light caught his eye. Winking at him in the distance, like a beacon. Alfred hesitated, frowning and worrying his lip. This was the type of strangeness the villagers were constantly on about, strange lights and the allure of the dreaded will-'o'-th'-wisps.

"Lead you to yer death, they will," he murmured, mimicking the sharp staccato voice of Fhinn's wife, Leesy.

He watched the flickering light for a moment longer, staring in awe as it contorted and changed shape, changed color...was there two of them now?

"What...?" he trailed off as the lights danced rapidly from side to side, as if someone were holding torches aloft. Was someone...signaling him?

Alfred drew a deep breath, swallowing thickly as he headed toward the strange lights. His pulse pounded in his throat as the sounds of the Moor suddenly seemed much louder to his hyper-alert ears. His footsteps were soft upon the earth, a faint squish accompanying each of them as he was led into a muddier part of the bog.

He pressed forward as the glow of the lights outshone that of the moon in front of him, illuminating the soft, flat plain of the marsh. Gnarled sticks of bushes jutted from the mud, grabbing at his clothes as he stubbornly pressed onward.

The lights blinked at him, moving from side to side excitedly as Alfred worriedly looked on.

He swore as the orbs abruptly shifted, racing over to a patch of peat and muddy earth a few yards over. They hovered over the spot, as if waiting for him. Alfred cautiously approached, cursing his damned curiosity and wondering what Matt would do if he was to suddenly disappear. Take his room, probably. Maybe.

He gasped.

Someone was lying in the mud in a heap, pale skin radiant in the flickering, twisting light of the will-'o'-th'-wisps.

Alfred cursed as he broke into a run, sloppily coming to a screeching halt as he fell onto all fours beside the body, will-'o'-th'-wisps forgotten. A young man, it appeared, slender and fair-skinned with high cheekbones and the palest blonde hair Alfred had ever seen. Alfred blushed; the stranger was naked.

He pressed a trembling hand to the man's neck--

\--and hissed as he retracted his hand and his head spun. He felt strange, his stomach lurching and heart thudding excitedly.

"Stop it," he begged to nobody in particular, waiting for his heart to stop racing. Oh, gods, what was happening? Was he dying? This had never happened before. Maybe he had some kind of illness. Maybe it was the gods punishing him for not decorating the stupid May Bush properly--

"Come on, Alfred, get it together," he scolded himself, biting his lip and determinedly returning his fingers to the stranger's neck. The strange feeling gradually dimmed, but didn't vanish completely. It lingered in the back of his mind's eye, just beyond reach.

Alfred breathed a sigh of relief as a dull thudding met his fingertips. The man was quite cold, though, Alfred realized as he peeled off his coat and laid it awkwardly over him. He looked around for any other signs of life (not to mention the man's clothes), but found nothing. The Moor stared silently back at him, shrouded in moonlight.

"H-hello?" Alfred stammered, clearing his throat as he awkwardly nudged the man's shoulder and received no response save for the flip-flopping of his heart. He frowned as he looked up into the cloudless sky; it was going to be cold tonight, rather unusual for the season. If this man stayed outside any longer, he might...

But that meant...

Alfred sighed, running a trembling hand through his bangs. That odd feeling prodded him persistently, tucked away in the back of his thoughts, but he tried not to think about it.

"It's the only way," he mumbled resolutely, focusing on the situation at hand as he gingerly scooped the stranger up into his arms, surrounded completely by his coat. He staggered, surprised at how light this man was; he had expected to be met with greater resistance.

He looked down at the fair-haired stranger nestled against his chest, wrapped in his coat, and smiled as he made a barely audible muffled sound.

"...hello?" Alfred tried, but all he got for answer was a soft sigh, warm against his chest. Alfred shivered, turning away and trying to focus his attention on something else. He smiled in spite of himself, looking up for the orbs of light which had led him to this mysterious stranger. The will-'o'-th'-wisps were nowhere to be found, as if they had vanished into thin air.

He shuddered as a breeze barreled through the Moor and blasted into his back. Drawing the man tightly to his chest, he hurried home.

* * *

Notes: Beltane is one of the major celebrations for pagans of Ireland, Scotland, and the Isle of Man (thanks, Wikipedia!) commemorating the beginning of summer and harvest season. In ancient Celtic tradition, a bonfire was a major part of the festivities, on honor of Bel, the Celtic diety with dominion over fire. Participants would dance around (and, occasionally, leap over) the bonfire and sometimes lead livestock around it, symbolizing protection of the animals during the summertime. A May Bush, or a shrub chosen by the villagers, would be decked out with ribbons and flowers. Typically, adornments were yellow-colored (such as the primrose and marigold flowers), to represent flames.  Sometimes, each house would have its own May Bush and there would be another one which belonged to the entire village. This May Bush was sometimes burned in the bonfire at the end of the festival. And as for Lughnasadh...we'll get into that later. ;)

"Fair Folk," "Fae," and "Folk" will probably be used interchangeably in this story to refer to faeries. Humans are strongly advised to not refer to them as "faeries," lest they become offended and do something to punish the one who had the audacity to refer to them as such. The residents of Alfred's village understand this concept all too well.

I wanted to set this fic up differently than the sort of canon with Matthew being the one everyone forgot about and Alfred being the proverbial "golden child." What if, in this universe, things were the other way around?


	3. Flame

_He cried out as his lover moved with him, his voice drowned out by the crashing of the waves. Salt spray drizzled into the cave, accompanied by the sea's loud roar. They had to meet here, away from prying eyes, in the dark and damp. But the coldness didn't bother him, not when they were together, with his trembling hands tangled in long tresses of soft blonde hair. He couldn't see it in the darkness, but he could feel the silken strands between his fingers._

_He drew in a shuddering breath of salt air, the twisted bed of seaweed and tangled roots of the trees above digging into his back as he was filled. Their coupling was always a dichotomy, both tender and aggressive, passionate yet distant. But it had always been this way, for as long as they had been seeing one another in secret. Blue eyes hungrily bore into his green ones as he was willfully devoured, and then..nothing. He was toying with him again, damn him. He cursed in frustration as the ministrations abruptly stopped, tugging at his lover's hair and drawing a groan from the other's throat._

_"Just do it already," he hissed as his lover chuckled, a low rumbling wheeze as he did as commanded, resuming his former pace and throwing the fair-skinned body beneath him into a satisfied haze. It was over far too soon, as it always was, as they lay beside one another in silence. They listened to the roar of the surf, pounding into the cliffs. They met here when the tide receded, leaving this secret, dark space for just the two of them while the sea masked their presence._

_"I wish the sea were low like this all of the time," his lover said as he wrapped his emerald-eyed lover in his arms, the stubble on his chin scraping against the other's cheek._

_"We would never get anything done if that was the case," he sighed as he let the other man hold him, yawning._

_"Yes, and there is so much to do," his lover answered with a sigh, "But we can accomplish it if we are together,"_

_"...I...I don't know," he faltered, biting his lip._

_He looked up as a hand cupped his chin, tilting his face upward. His eyes met the deep blue ones of his lover; they twinkled with a light only he possessed, shining brightly into his green ones and the only thing visible in the darkness. They calmed him, made him sleepy. Warm._

_"We can do this, together," his lover repeated, "We shall rule over the Court, you and I,"_

_"...but how?" he murmured quietly._

_His lover chuckled as he pulled him closer._

_"Oh, don't worry. You will see," he promised._

* * *

He woke abruptly in a panic, flailing his limbs about and immediately wishing he hadn't. Searing pain shot up his leg, making him cry out.

If he hadn't been so distracted by the angry throbbing accosting him upon waking, he might have noticed the young man he had frightened by his outburst standing across the room.

"A-are you all right?" a soft voice asked worriedly. He pried one eye open, breathing deeply to try and keep the pain at bay. The boy was quite young, with flyaway blonde hair and wide, violet-tinged eyes. He had dropped a bundle of clothes upon the other's waking, and was hastily trying to gather them up.

"L-let me fetch my brother. Maybe...can I get you some water?" he stammered nervously.

He managed to nod stiffly, exhaling gratefully as the young man scampered out of the room. He fully opened his eyes and gradually took in his surroundings. A thatch roof was overhead, with various beads and things haphazardly hanging from it. Decorations?

He groaned, gingerly pressing a hand to his forehead. He was covered in warm blankets, lying upon something soft. But...where was he?

He looked up as loud footsteps approached and another man bounded into the room. This one was taller, maybe a bit older. But his eyes were striking--the bluest blue he had ever seen.

Well, perhaps not _ever_ ; he angrily pushed the thought aside.

"Well good morning!" the newcomer greeted with a bright smile, his blonde bangs ruffling as he rushed forward and looked down at him. He certainly wasn't soft-spoken like the former human was, loud and boisterous--he instantly decided that he hated him.

Awkward silence passed between the two of them for a time, though, emerald meeting sapphire as they looked into one another's eyes. He found himself getting lost in them, drowning in a sea the color of the sky, hardly daring to breathe. It was a strange combination of things that burst through him then--curiosity, surprise, relief, anxiety, a peculiar familiarity...he couldn't possibly name them all.

The spell was broken as the stranger began to speak.

"S-so, um...how are you feeling?" he stammered, his voice surprisingly shaky considering how loud he had just been upon entering.

He merely nodded, looking down toward his feet.

"Oh, yeah, your ankle's all messed up," the blue-eyed stranger explained, following his gaze, "I put a splint on it to keep it straight, but it's going to be a while before you can walk, though," he added glumly, sounding concerned...?

_No. Don't trust. Look where trust has landed you._

He swallowed, mouthing "thank you" in the human's tongue. His voice still wasn't coming to him, managing only a wheeze rather than syllables. The language felt strange on his lips, harsh and staccato compared to his own tongue, but he was glad he knew it.

He looked up as the other young man from earlier emerged, a simple clay cup in his hands.

"Here's your water," he announced as his brother turned and took the cup from him.

"All right, you up for a drink?" the blue-eyed man asked with a smile. He nodded, allowing him to prop his head up so he could drink. He was parched, as if he had never tasted water before. He drained the cup and nodded gratefully.

"Thank you," he rasped as the stranger's hand guided his head back onto his pillow. Surprisingly gentle, for a human. Odd.

"You're welcome," the younger brother responded as he pulled up a chair to the side of the bed, "How are you feeling?"

He hesitated, pausing to give the matter some serious thought.

Anger. So much anger. Betrayal, bitter and pungent like bile--

"Tired," he stated honestly, "And my leg..."

"It should get better soon," the older one promised as he bowed slightly, "Ah, I'm sorry. I forgot--I'm Alfred. And, uh, this is my brother, Matthew," he blurted, embarrassed.

"Pleased to meet you," he responded mechanically, using the mundane customs of the humans. He knew what question was coming next, however, and carefully laid out a plausible answer.

They could not know his true name. They probably wouldn't even be able to pronounce it, and, frankly, the idea of having his birth name torn asunder by the inferior tongue of a human made his skin crawl. No, he would give his default one, one he had selected from the lore of the people of the village.

"What's your name?" Alfred asked, and he was ready to respond.

"Arthur," he answered with a nod, "I'm a merchant. I was delivering goods when I was robbed, and my cart was stolen," he stated, the familiar tale unraveling flawlessly from his lips. It wasn't an all-out lie, of course. He had sold goods to other Sidhe tribesmen in the past, and he had gotten his cart stolen on one occasion. He was convinced that one of the Puca had been involved, thinking it hilarious, but never found out for certain. It was unwise to provoke unless absolutely necessary when dealing with one of _those_ creatures.

He felt a twinge of regret, however, when the two brothers began to fuss over him. They looked genuinely apologetic, Matthew offering his condolences while Alfred vowed revenge on his behalf. Endearing, these ones. It was no wonder his kind had taken a shine to humans. So ready to show emotion, to dive into others' problems and, ultimately, to drown in them.

Fools.

"Well, Arthur, looks like you're gonna be staying with us for a while," Alfred declared with a bright smile, "I'm making soup, actually, if you feel up to it. Be ready in a bit, all right?"

"Soup sounds...lovely," Arthur answered with a half-hearted grin. His heart hurt. Everything hurt.

"Great," Alfred stated, "Uh...can I get you anything?" he asked awkwardly, rubbing the back of his head nervously. Those blue eyes shone, twinkling.

"No, thank you," Arthur responded. His leg was killing him, but he was exhausted, "I think I will just...try to sleep,"

"That's probably a good idea," Matthew piped up with a vigorous nod, "We'll, uh, let you know when the soup's ready,"

"Thank you," Arthur said, watching the pair depart and miserably staring up at the ceiling. The decorations were roughly hewn, various carvings interlaced into the thatch with ribbons, twine, blades of braided grass, and colorful glass beads. A strange tapestry of sorts, forming an intricate swirl-like pattern if he squinted. The lovely scenery did little to distract from the gnawing in the pit of his stomach, however, as he tightly clenched his fists at his sides.

How had it come to this?

He had trusted him, believed that conniving swine when he had promised to stand by his side, to rule with him...

How had he been so _stupid_?

"Arthur" had always prided himself on his sharp wit, his cunning mind. How high he had ascended in the Court, acknowledged and renowned among his kin. And yet, how far he had fallen since meeting _him_. He laughed bitterly, a soft barking noise as he ran a quivering hand through his hair.

Heh. "Him." No name, save for titles and the false ones they had invented in case they encountered a human. How close "Arthur" had been to "Francis," yet how distant. How intimate they had been in the dark, cool dampness of their cave, bodies melding together beneath the turbulent crashing of the surf...

He frowned, drawing a shuddering breath as the panging in his heart drowned out the blazing pulse from his ankle. He didn't even need to look to know what had become of it. It was customary for exiles to be maimed temporarily upon banishment. A warning, a dark parting gift:

_"You can't run from us,"_

He bit his lip, angry at himself. What a fool he was. An exiled fool, to boot. He didn't even want to look at his hand, knowing what would be there. The pain there had been drowned out by that of his ankle, but there was no mistaking what revelation awaited him.

Drawing a deep breath, he slowly willed his hands in front of him and turned them over. An angry red welt on the front of his right hand seethed at him, pulsing a bright white on the raised skin in-time with the beating of his heart. A crest, painstakingly intricate, was seared into his flesh. A brand, a mark distinguishing him as a traitor.

He sighed, grateful for the one small blessing that the humans were unable to see nor comprehend the meaning behind such a hateful thing. That would have been difficult to explain away with his tale about being robbed. He swallowed, gingerly placing his arms on either side of his body as he stared at the ceiling. The little baubles twinkled at him, tiny stars in the thatch sky.

How had it come to this?

He didn't consider himself worthy of such a fate. He hadn't actually _done_ anything yet. And that traitorous coward, throwing him to the wolves as he no doubt ascended higher into the favor of the Queen-Arthur seethed, setting his jaw stubbornly as heat built in his eyes. Tears spilled silently down his cheeks, hitting the soft pillow beneath his head with soft plops. How could Francis have done this to him? After all they had...?

"Imbecile," he hissed bitterly as he reached up and wiped the tears from his face. Indeed he was. Banished, lame, alone, and dependent upon the care of two foolish humans. He had never felt so pathetic in his entire life.

And yet...

He closed his eyes, imagining the sparkling blue eyes of his former lover twinkling as he smiled, and how that light would be abruptly snuffed out by Arthur's own hand.

Yes.

Yes, there was still time for him to pay Francis back a thousand fold for what he had done, he reasoned with a wicked smirk.

He need only wait for the right time, after he had healed.

Then, all would be avenged.

He smiled as he slipped into a shallow slumber, visions of him stalking his blue-eyed prey in the black night glimmering in his mind's eye.

* * *

Notes: The Fair Folk cannot tell an all-out lie. They can skirt around the truth or twist it, but cannot state something that is false. The Puca is a creature that can take on many forms, a common one being a black horse. They can wreak havoc and even kill humans, but are pranksters in most accounts I've seen. They are revered in many regions and are given a share of the crops in the field after the harvest to placate them.


	4. Tinder

Alfred sighed as he leaned on the table, reflecting on the greenest pair of eyes he had ever seen. He had actually gotten goosebumps when Arthur had opened them, staring up at him in a daze from beneath the down coverlets of Alfred's bed. He felt himself blushing at that thought, at Arthur's trim form wrapped up in his blankets and nestled into his cot...warm, pale skin resting in the hollow where Alfred usually lay...

"Ugh, stop it," he scolded himself, grateful that Matt had gone outside to gather herbs and plants from the garden for the soup. He slapped himself, shaking his head as if to clear his mind. What was the matter with him, thinking such things about a poor man who had gone through a horrible ordeal? If Fhinn could read his mind, Alfred was certain he would have been hauled off for a lashing by now. Judging by the looks of this Arthur, though, he probably had a family waiting at home anyway. Probably some kind of soldier, maybe, based on the scars? Maybe he took up the merchant trade after a war? Seemed awfully young for that, though.

Still, though, Alfred couldn't help but marvel. Arthur was...radiant. That was the word. Captivating, somehow. He eagerly looked forward to talking with him more, to hearing his strange accent and watching those emerald eyes twinkle as he spoke.

He shuddered involuntarily, that ever-present weird feeling lurking in the recesses of his mind. It had calmed, and thankfully hadn't gotten worse when he was binding Arthur's broken ankle, but still. The fact that he couldn't place it frightened him; was it anxiety? Not quite, more like...nostalgia? Whatever it was, he didn't like it. But it wasn't as if he could tell anyone--they'd think he had lost his mind.

He looked up as Matt walked in, closing the door softly behind him. A bundle of plants rested in the crook of his arm, most of which Alfred recognized.

"Great!" Alfred praised as Matt handed half of the bundle to him, "Thanks,"

"Alfred, you're letting the pot boil over," Matt groaned, rushing over toward said pot. It burbled violently in the hearth, spilling liquid out onto the logs with a series of angry hisses.

"...oh," Alfred muttered, embarrassed, as Matt vigorously stirred the kettle and plopped the wooden spoon into it. He turned around, shaking his head as Alfred murmured an apology.

"Chicken's all done though," Alfred offered. Matt nodded in acknowledgement, but said nothing for a few moments.

"Say, Alfred," Matt finally said softly, even for him, as he nervously stole a glance over his shoulder toward the doorway.

"What?" Alfred asked, following his gaze, "I think he's asleep, if you're worried about waking him up--"

"No, that's...that's not it," Matt whispered as he hurriedly began stripping the stalks of their leaves and dumping them into the boiling water, "I just...don't you think something's...off about him?"

"...off?" Alfred asked, jumping as Matt hissed at him to lower his voice. He rolled his eyes, walking over to stand beside him and help with the preparation of the soup, "What do you mean 'off'?" he whispered over the pot.

"I'm not entirely sure," Matt admitted with a sigh, "But something makes me uneasy about him. I mean...did you see his _eyes_? They're--"

"Gorgeous," Alfred blurted suddenly. His face turned red, though Matt had (blessedly) mistaken his outburst for a joke.

"This isn't funny, Alfred, I'm being serious," Matt whined as he shook his head, "And I'm not quite sure if I buy his story or not,"

"Why not?" Alfred demanded, suddenly feeling defensive, "You saw his leg. Hell, they even took his clothes!"

"If that was true, he should be covered in bruises," Matt reasoned as he threw Alfred a sharp glance, "I didn't see a single one. Did you?"

Alfred frowned as he mulled this over. He hadn't exactly been looking for bruises so much as he had wanted to tend to Arthur's injury, but...

"I don't make a habit of creepily ogling naked strangers, Matt," he snapped as his brother glared at him, "Besides, maybe they just jumped him and busted his ankle. That could've made him pass out, right? From the pain?" he offered as he took the wooden soup spoon and began stirring. The plants bobbed in the broth, filling the kitchen with a delicious herby scent. Rosemary overpowered most of it, which suited Alfred just fine. He loved rosemary.

"I mean, I suppose that could be true," Matt reasoned with a worried frown, "But how would they have broken his ankle?"

"Held him down?" Alfred suggested with a shrug, "He's not exactly a giant,"

"That...makes sense, I guess," Matt conceded as he shook his head, "But what about all of those scars, though? I mean, that one right across his chest--"

"Well maybe he's seen some _shit_ , Matt," Alfred growled, suddenly feeling quite defensive, "He could've been involved in a war or something,"

His brother frowned, nodding thoughtfully as he stared into the soup.

"Maybe," he reasoned, "But what bothers me most is that you found him in the Moor. It was bad enough for you to be out there alone after dark," he paused to throw Alfred an accusatory stare, "But for whoever attacked him to go out of his way and walk out into the Moor at _night_? It just doesn't add up,"

"Sure it does," Alfred argued, "Where better to stash someone who you don't want to be found than in the supposedly haunted Moor?"

"Not supposedly. It _is_ haunted," Matt corrected, "Honestly, I don't understand your fascination with that place. But, yeah, I guess that's a good point. Maybe they just intended to let him die out there, thinking no one would find him,"

"That's my guess," Alfred said as he stirred the pot and stretched, "I'm glad I found him when I did,"

"In the middle of the night, though, in the Moor," Matt laughed, shaking his head, "I mean, what are the odds? It's not like you had any light to show you where to go to find him,"

Alfred froze, and of course his brother noticed. He couldn't tell Matt what he had seen. Hell, he was spooked enough about frogs making sounds in the Moor, let alone supernatural creatures.

"What, did you step on him?" Matt asked, smirking.

"Kinda, yeah," Alfred lied, managing weak laugh as Matt positively roared.

"Gods, Alfred, no wonder you have trouble making friends," Matt wheezed as he wiped a tear from his eye.

Alfred laughed it off, but he roiled on the inside. He had always been the odd one, Matt being the perfect son and he the defect; it didn't matter that Alfred was a year older. Matt was the quiet, calm one, who adhered to village customs and embraced the mundane roles they were fully expected to fill. Matt was the better cook, the more skilled farmer, the quickest to learn and easiest to teach. Alfred, on the other hand, well...suffice it to say that he was openly avoided when the villagers needed an apprentice or help with most tasks.

Not that he wasn't good at anything--Alfred was quite proud of his tracking and hunting skills. He could find anyone and anything, from the forests to the dreaded, boggy lowlands of the Moor. Even if it rained, Alfred would be certain to capture his intended quarry. Not even Matt could brag that he had skill like that. His brother could barely manage to find his socks, let alone prey in the wilderness.

In fact, Alfred felt more at home out in the wild than in his own cottage. He loved his brother, yes, but the two of them were just so starkly different sometimes that it was painful. They supported one another, helped each other out when they could, but at the end of the day, Matt was the unchallenged village favorite. He never outright threw it in Alfred's face, but back-handed insults often seeped into his jokes. Alfred still wasn't sure if he meant anything by them. Matt had always had a rather punchy sense of humor, anyway.

Besides, Alfred thought to himself with a wry smile, of the pair of them, Alfred was the only one who had managed to master the bagpipes, and the entire village knew it. Matt had nearly passed out the last time he had tried keeping up with him, which Alfred reminded him of on a fairly regular basis. And Matt certainly had no patience for appreciating aesthetic things as Alfred did, when he took reeds and trinkets and made charms and strange contraptions with them. Not that he publicized it, though, not wanting to be made fun of--Matt had already brushed his hobby off as stupid, and he didn't need to hear it from anyone else. Other than the select few that he used as fishing lures, his creations almost never left his bedroom.

"Should be ready in about an hour or so, yeah?" Matt asked as Alfred nodded, "All right, you stay here with him, I'll go down to the baker for bread,"

"All right," Alfred answered, waving to him as Matt grabbed his change purse and ran out the door. He sighed, sinking onto the kitchen chair and drumming his fingers onto the tabletop. An hour, Matt had said, right?

He grinned as he sprang out of his seat and stretched. An hour was more than enough time to get some practice in with his pipes. And hey, if he was lucky, maybe he could lose the odd uneasy feeling he had picked up. Of course, that meant retrieving his pipes from his bedroom.

Alfred tiptoed out of the kitchen and into the hallway, opening the door of his room with a soft click. He paused, waiting to see if he had woken Arthur up. When no sound met his ears, he proceeded quietly into the room and made his way over to the opposite end of it. His bagpipes lay on top of his trunk, lacquered wood gleaming as he slowly worked his way over to them. He hefted them over his shoulder, wincing as they clacked together.

"Shit," he cursed, whirling toward his bed in a panic. Arthur didn't stir, apparently unfazed. Alfred paused, looking him over briefly to ensure he hadn't disturbed him before quickly departing and closing the door behind him.

He walked outside and sat down on a boulder outside of the cottage, drawing a deep breath as he stared out at the landscape. Being perched atop a hill, his house overlooked the Moor. Beautiful, as always, with its plants of many colors and the sea glistening in the distance. He could smell salt on the air sometimes, if the wind was strong enough.

He placed the reed to his lips and filled the bag with air, then took in another lungful and blew. The drone pierced through the silence, low and hollow as Alfred began to play.

* * *

Notes: I read somewhere that the Folk are fond of herbs like rosemary. :)


	5. Kindling

Arthur awoke to music.

Beautiful music, actually. Bagpipes, unless he was mistaken. Impossible--there was simply no mistaking that sound. He had always loved music (as all of his kinsmen did), but the pipes were by far his favorite instrument of all. Something about the roundness of the sound, the strong and steady undertones, had always appealed to him. He stared up at the trinkets on the ceiling and smiled, listening to the tune drifting through the shutters. Whoever was playing was fairly skilled, belting out complex scales and lilting notes in a manner that soothed him. One of the elder humans, most likely.

He was actually starting to doze, lulled by the haunting tune, when the door of the room he was in opened. Matthew entered, bowing his head sheepishly and bearing a tray.

"Hello there," he greeted awkwardly, "Uh, the soup's all done...if you want some,"

"Thank you," Arthur answered as he slowly willed himself into a sitting position. It took longer than it should have with his injuries, but he eventually was sitting with his back propped up against the pillow Matthew had placed back there for him. Thankfully, he was able to keep everything from the waist down covered.

"Here you are," Matthew announced as he carefully placed the tray onto Arthur's lap, "It's, uh, a little hot, so..."

"I'll be careful, thank you," Arthur stated half-heartedly as the music of the pipes drifted into the room from outside. The song was a lengthy one, he thought to himself as he swirled the spoon in the plant-laden broth. He frowned as he was met with resistance, a chunk of something white.

"Chicken," Matthew explained from his bedside. Arthur looked up and threw him a sheepish smile. The human was looking at him with anticipation as he sat in his chair; he clearly wanted him to try some of it. _Ugh_.

"Ah, right," Arthur managed with a weak grin, scooping some of the broth into the spoon and blowing on it. He popped the spoon into his mouth, pleasantly surprised to find the soup to not be as disgusting as he had feared. It was robust and herby, a complex arrangement of flavors that he recognized most of. Saffron, thyme, rosemary...

"Is it all right?" Matthew asked anxiously.

"Yes, it's...quite good," Arthur faltered, searching for the right words. It had been far too long since he had been forced to speak with a human, and he was rusty.

Matthew didn't appear to notice his discomfort, however, as he smiled.

"Good, I'm glad," he praised as the music of the bagpipes abruptly stopped, "Ah, he must be getting hungry," he laughed.

"Who?" Arthur asked as he drank down another spoonful of broth, "The man playing the pipes just now?"

"Yeah, that was Alfred," Matthew explained.

Arthur choked on his soup.

" _That_ was Alfred?" he spluttered as Matthew threw him a look.

"Yes, he's...really good at the pipes," the human admitted with a frown. Arthur raised an eyebrow as the young man muttered something about going to get some water and walked out of the room. Clearly, these two were quite competitive with one another. Arthur took a mental note of this fact as he reluctantly took a bite of the chicken lurking in the broth. This information might be useful to him later on.

He paused as he heard Alfred enter the house, his large boots stomping loudly on the floorboards as he lumbered into the bedroom. Arthur suppressed a snarl; how could someone this obnoxious be such a talented musician?

"Hey!" he greeted as he walked in, bagpipes slung over his shoulder and grinning.

"That was you playing a moment ago?" Arthur blurted.

"Yeah, I like to play them outside, sometimes, ya know..." Alfred trailed off, blushing as he shrugged the shoulder holding the instrument. Arthur blinked, snapping his gaze back onto his soup as Alfred clumsily ran to the other end of the room to place his bagpipes onto a small wooden trunk.

"Lemme just grab a bowl and I'll join you!" Alfred declared as he ran back into what Arthur assumed was the kitchen. He sighed, taking a long dreg from the bowl and tempering himself. It wouldn't be terribly long before he healed, being what he was. Only a little while of putting up with this Alfred and his antics and his blue eyes. Still, he _had_ been wounded with magic. That could slow him considerably, he thought to himself with a frown.

"All right, there we go," Alfred stated as he ran back in with a bowl of soup in one hand, a wooden stool in the other. He plunked the stool down and sat upon it next to Arthur's bed, followed shortly by Matthew retaking his seat in the chair.

"So, Arthur, where are you from?" Alfred asked politely as he took a spoonful of soup and blew on it.

Arthur paused, formulating the correct response. He couldn't lie, of course, but he could come close.

"Well, I--" he faltered as Alfred loudly slurped his soup.

"Alfred," Matthew said flatly as he raised an eyebrow at him.

"Sorry," Alfred apologized with a laugh, "Sorry, Arthur, go ahead,"

"...as I was saying," Arthur began slowly, half-expecting the oaf to cut him off again, "I am not from a village near here, but I have been traveling,"

"Ah, that's right, you mentioned you were a merchant," Alfred said brightly as he took a--blessedly--silent drink of his soup, "What do you sell?"

"Many things," Arthur answered cryptically, "Mostly medicines,"

This was true--the trade of medicinal herbs to neighboring Sidhe tribes had been his assigned duty back in the day, to prove his worth to the Court.

Oh, how things had changed since then.

"Medicines, huh?" Alfred muttered, looking over at Matthew, "Hey, you ought to have a great conversation with Irunya. She's apprenticing to become a Healer,"

"Y-yeah," Matthew agreed, faltering and staring into his soup with an expression Arthur couldn't decipher.

Arthur jumped as Alfred burst into a peal of boisterous laughter and clapped his brother harshly on the back. Matthew sloshed his soup into his lap and jumped up with a yelp.

"OW! You IDIOT!" Matthew cried as he set his soup bowl onto his vacant seat and smacked Alfred's arm, "What was that for?"

"You're a mess over that girl, Matt," Alfred laughed, "It's hilarious,"

"Shut up," Matthew threatened as he turned toward Arthur, "Excuse me, I'm going to go grab another pair of pants, seeing as my idiot brother decided to spill soup all over these ones," he growled, turning back toward Alfred with a frown.

He walked out, leaving Arthur with a giggling mortal to contend with. He sighed, trying to keep his agitation in-check and focusing on his bread. Not the quality he was used to, but it was sufficient.

"Eh, he'll get over it soon enough," Alfred stated matter-of-factly as he took another drink of his soup, "I think he'll end up marrying her someday, the way he goes on about her all of the time," he added; Arthur just stared at him. He didn't know these people. Didn't this fool realize that he had no interest in this subject?

"Anyway, you'll be seeing her really soon. We were planning on having her take a look at your leg--"

"Th-that won't be necessary," Arthur interrupted, frantic. Best not to draw attention to himself, not more than was needed, "It will heal on its own, I'm sure, with rest,"

"Well, yeah, but still--maybe Irunya's got something that can heal you faster. You know, medicine," Alfred reasoned, "Besides, she's a real sweetheart. Leesy's the one you've gotta worry about," he added with an arched brow.

"Leesy?" Arthur blurted, growing more uncomfortable by the moment.

"Yeah, the village Healer," Alfred explained with a smile that made those blue eyes sparkle, "She's the wife of the village Elder...are you all right?" he asked, brow furrowed in concern as Arthur no doubt turned pale.

"I will be fine," Arthur stated with a weak smile, "So, what do you and your brother do?" he asked suddenly, eager to change the subject.

Alfred looked him over briefly before answering, obviously not buying the act.

"Well, Matt's apprenticing to become a blacksmith," he sighed, shrugging, "And we both farm, you know, like everyone does,"

"And, yourself?" Arthur pried, curious.

Alfred paused uncertainly, eyes darting around the room as if looking for an exit.

Oh, now Arthur was _really_ curious.

"Surely farming isn't all that you occupy your time with," Arthur stated, "What else do you do to occupy your time?"

"W-well, there isn't really much to talk about, really, I mean Matt's the one you wanna talk t--"

"Alfred," Arthur said flatly.

"You really want to know?" Alfred blurted, wide-eyed.

Arthur nodded cautiously. _Did_ he?

Yes, he supposed he did. Damn his infernal curiosity.

"Oh, uh...heh," Alfred faltered, shaking his head as he turned his attention to the beads and ribbons on the ceiling, "I, uh, make stuff," he muttered as he gestured toward the decorations above, "And I'm great at hunting and tracking, so I'm part of hunting parties to get meat for the village,"

Arthur deflated a bit, but didn't show it. _That_ was what all the fuss was about? Ribbons and beads and such? Alfred was behaving as if he had committed murder, not crafted works of art.

"You made these?" Arthur asked, pointing up at the delicate-looking trinkets.

"Yeah," Alfred answered brightly, smiling at him as he stood and retrieved one of his pieces from the thatch ceiling. It was a pretty little thing, colored ribbon and tiny green baubles laced together with tiny strands of braided grass. Arthur took it gently into his hand as Alfred offered it to him, intrigued.

He looked up sharply as Alfred gasped.

"S-sorry," he blurted as he scooted backward and plunked back down onto his seat, "I, uh...that one's one of my older ones, but..." he trailed off, uncertain.

Arthur barely heard him, engrossed in examining the glittering glass beads in his hands. Intricately made, with a small star-like pattern etched into each one, they radiated a lovely green, piercing through the glass and spotting his pale flesh with small emerald pools of light.

"You like it?" Alfred asked reluctantly.

"It's beautiful," Arthur answered as he hesitantly tore his gaze from the trinket and back to the man speaking to him. Alfred looked genuinely relieved, sighing a little and smiling.

"You can keep it, if you want," he offered, "I mean, if you like it,"

Arthur hesitated. It was not common practice to take things from mortals, save for offerings of food. But it _had_ been offered freely, not to mention how it caught his eye, the way it sparkled like that...

"Thank you, Alfred, I will," Arthur said with a small smile.

"The beads are kinda the same color as your eyes," Alfred blurted, tensing suddenly and turning away. Arthur frowned in confusion, watching the human's face slowly burn crimson.

"A-anyway, uh--oh hey, Matt!" Alfred stammered as his brother returned, donned in another pair of pants. Matthew blinked at him in confusion for a moment before clearing his throat.

"Uh, well, if you're feeling up to it, Arthur, I think we ought to have one of the Healers come visit you," he suggested after an awkward moment's pause.

Arthur bit his lip to keep from screaming "NO." He did _not_ want to be examined, thank you very much--

He jumped as Alfred put a hand on his shoulder, only briefly, jolting his hand back after sensing Arthur's movement.

Or, perhaps it was because of something else?

He frowned at the sudden surge of energy he felt. What _was_ that? A pulse, a shock of something strange that subsided the instant Alfred had removed his hand. What--?

"Y-yeah, Irunya's great," Alfred said awkwardly, his face still that peculiar shade of red, "She'll have you feeling better in no time,"

"I--" Arthur protested.

"I'll go get her," Matt offered as he turned to leave, "Oh, and Alfred, feel free to let Arthur borrow some of my clothes. I think yours would be a little big for him--no offense," he added as he turned back toward Arthur.

Arthur simply stared at him, filled with dread.

"Right, then, I'm off," Matt sighed as he swiftly departed, leaving a very nervous Fae and equally nervous human in his wake.

* * *

Oh gods.

He had actually _touched_ him. Touched his hand, and then his shoulder just now and it was electrifying and strange and that _feeling_ had returned, swift and overwhelming--

What was the MATTER with him?!

Alfred excused himself, making up some rubbish about going to fetch Arthur some of his brother's clothes to borrow. He closed the door of Matt's room, leaning heavily against it while he tried to collect himself.

He had carried him, for fuck's sake. It wasn't like that was the first time he had touched him.

But every time he had touched Arthur's bare skin, though, that... _something_ resurfaced, a steady pang that he couldn't ignore. It was strange, like Alfred had felt it before, but he couldn't recall from where. Alfred shuddered, that something persistently nagging at him as he rummaged through his brother's trunk.

* * *

"It will be probably a few months before your ankle is back to normal completely," Irunya deduced as she looked Arthur over. He had (with Alfred's assistance, much to his embarrassment) changed into a pair of trousers and a simple cotton shirt before her arrival at the cottage. Alfred noted Arthur's unease at being examined, his mouth pressed into a thin line as he watched her movements with trepidation. Although, other than reinforcing Alfred's splint, she hadn't done much else.

"You should be able to walk in a few weeks or so, though, with the assistance of a cane," she stated astutely, smiling warmly at him as she bowed and tugged at her shawl, "I am very sorry that you had to arrive here in the manner in which you did, but...welcome to our village, Arthur,"

"Thank you," Arthur squeaked.

Alfred looked up as she turned toward him and pressed a small clay jar into his hands. It smelled very strong, though Alfred was at a loss as to what it was.

"This is a powerful pain medication," she explained, "Should he need it, you need only add this much to a cup of tea," she stated, holding up a small space between her thumb and forefinger to demonstrate the dosage, "It will cut the pain tremendously and should bring down swelling, to accelerate the healing process,"

"Wow," Alfred stated dumbly, "Thanks, Irunya. See, Arthur? Told you she was great," he said as he turned back to the man seated upon his bed.

"Yes, thank you," Arthur agreed, nodding at her. Gods, that shy, barely perceptible little smile he had--

"I look forward to seeing you out and about, Arthur," Irunya said with a warm smile, bowing again and tugging her shawl over her ample bust, "I will make sure to check in on you,"

"I-I can walk you back to the village, if you want," Matt blurted. Alfred bit his lip to suppress a laugh as his brother blushed, "I mean, I have to go there anyway and I figured we could walk together and--"

"Thank you, Matthew," Irunya said with a kind smile, "Let's get going,"

Alfred waited until he heard the click of the door behind them before turning back toward Arthur, who looked...positively miserable, actually.

"What's wrong?" he asked, concerned, "You feeling sick or something?"

"N-no, I'm fine--ah!" Arthur yelped as he accidentally moved his injured foot. He pursed his lips, breathing deeply while the pain ebbed.

"You just relax, all right? I'm going to fix you some of this medicine," Alfred instructed. Arthur looked like he wanted to protest, but conceded.

* * *

Turned out Irunya's medicine was indeed powerful stuff. Alfred had taken care to not add too much (at least he had thought so), but within ten minutes of drinking it, Arthur had passed out cold. Alfred gently pried the half-empty teacup from Arthur's limp fingertips--

\--and hissed as his fingers grazed Arthur's hands.

Heat, searing and abrupt, flooded through his fingertips and into the back of his right hand. He nearly dropped the teacup, clumsily setting it on the stool he had been seated upon with an unstable clank.

The sensation disappeared as quickly as it had arrived, leaving Alfred terribly confused, not to mention frightened. Something was happening to him.

He chose to stave off a panic attack by trying to make his guest more comfortable. He tugged the blankets, which had been messily clumped around Arthur's feet, and gingerly laid them over him. He was careful to avoid agitating his swollen ankle, setting the covers gently over it.

"There," he declared as he stepped backward to admire his handiwork. Arthur was propped up on a pillow, that pale, straw-blonde hair radiant against it. His mouth hung open a bit, chest rising and falling quietly as he slept. He grinned a little as he noted that his charm he had given Arthur was tied securely around his left wrist; evidently, he liked it.

Alfred excused himself, grabbing the teacup and quietly closing the door to his bedroom behind him.

* * *

Notes: In this universe, Ukraine is one smart doctor lady. You go, girl. Also, the Folk are really into tunes. Music plays a prominent role in many tales where they are mentioned.


	6. Luminescence

"So where are you from, Arthur?" Fhinn asked from where he sat beside what used to be Alfred's bed, at his wife's side. The young man sitting upon it paused for a moment before answering, choosing his words carefully, Fhinn noted.

"I am not from a village near here, but I have been traveling," Arthur responded with a small grin. Fhinn nodded, frowning a little. He agreed with Matthew--something was strange about this fellow, that was for sure. He had certainly had his doubts, when the younger brother of the pair came to his house informing him of how their new houseguest made him uneasy. Upon seeing him, however, Fhinn could easily understand why Matthew felt that way. This "Arthur" looked in excellent shape for someone who had just gotten robbed and thrown into the Moor, with naught but a broken ankle to show for it. And he had a strange manner of speaking, an accent the village elder simply could not place. Fluid and smooth, like water burbling over river-worn stones.

"He's a merchant, Fhinn," Alfred piped in on Arthur's behalf, leaning casually on the doorframe as he smiled.

"Is that right?" Fhinn asked, turning back toward the village's latest guest. Arthur simply looked back at him, those green, green eyes crinkling at the edges as he smiled.

Something was _very_ off about those eyes.

"Ah, I'm terribly sorry to hear about your misfortune, Dear," Leesy said, patting the bed in that consoling way of hers, "But you'll be on yer feet in no time, I'm sure of it," she added with a warm smile.

"Thank you, Ma'am," Arthur responded politely.

"But where are you from, Arthur?" Fhinn repeated, genuinely curious and more than just a tad suspicious. What if this man was some kind of fugitive? He certainly couldn't allow that kind of bad luck into his village.

To his surprise, Arthur didn't respond right away. Again, he appeared deep in thought.

"It's fairly small; you've never heard of it," he stated coolly.

"Try me," Fhinn challenged, hackles raised.

"It's near the sea, a very small settlement," Arthur elaborated, narrowing his eyes into slits as he glared at him. Fhinn resisted the urge to shiver, but only just. Those eyes blazed at him, emerald fire smoldering quietly. A very regal and demanding air about him, for someone who was only a lad.

"And the name of this place is...?" Fhinn pressed.

"Oh for goodness' sake, Fhinn, can't you tell the boy doesn't want to discuss it?" Leesy scolded, smacking him upside the head. He grunted as he angrily lurched away from her.

"I'm just trying to find out more about our guest, that's all," he insisted through grit teeth, "Apologies, Arthur, I didn't mean to come across as rude," he lied.

"Of course," Arthur snipped. Fhinn bit back a snarl, flexing his fingers.

"It's a shame you missed out on Beltane, too," Leesy added kindly, "But it looks like Alfred here did a nice job at setting yer leg,"

"Yes, Alfred has been very kind to me," Arthur stated with a smile and flicking his eyes over to Fhinn briefly. What was that? Some kind of challenge?

Fhinn resisted the urge to roll his eyes as Alfred shuffled from one foot to the other, clearly embarrassed. That boy had always been an odd one, reluctant to join in and so sheepish at times that it was staggering. Hell, most of the time Fhinn couldn't get him to shut up while he was a young boy, loud and full of life. Get him in a crowd, though, and he would shrink so far into himself that it had been all Fhinn could do to get him to speak. He hadn't always been like that, but after his mother's passing, he had...changed.

Fhinn shuddered involuntarily as a pang of sadness washed over him; that night had changed more than just Alfred.

Come to think of it, he thought vaguely as his wife continued conversing with Arthur, were Alfred's eyes always that _blue_? Alfred originally had sported brown eyes like his father, but they had gradually changed as he grew. This happened occasionally in children, his wife had tried to tell him, but seeing those strange green eyes just now, the intensity and brightness--

"Right, Fhinn?" Leesy asked.

"Huh?" Fhinn blurted, looking over at her. She was frowning at him, tapping her foot on the floor impatiently, "I, uh...yes,"

Leesy shook her head, throwing him a look before rising from her seat, leaning forward, and gently kissing Arthur's forehead. Fhinn noted how he had flinched, as if touched with cold steel.

"Welcome to our village, Arthur," she said kindly as she gestured for Fhinn to get up.

"Thank you," Arthur stated with a smile, one that obviously did not reach his eyes.

"Be right there, Leesy," Fhinn said with a smile and a gentle wave. He waited until he was certain his wife was out of earshot and conversing with the boys before turning back toward Alfred's bed.

"Listen up, you," he growled, keeping his voice low so he would not be overheard, "If you've got any trouble followin' you, you'd better tell me. Are you running because you're a thief?" he asked, face stern. He could smell a lie from a mile away, one of the things he prided himself upon. He certainly had caught Alfred and Matthew enough times when they were children for him to boast such an ability.

Arthur sat up straight, tilting his chin upward and staring at him over his nose, like some kind of lord or something. Who _was_ he?

"I assure you, Sir, I am no thief," he stated coolly.

"You running from something, then?" Fhinn asked, "I'll know it if you lie to me," he added threateningly.

"No, Sir, I am not," Arthur insisted as his glare only intensified. If looks could kill, Fhinn would have been dead on the floor by now.

"Then how did you end up in the Moor?" Fhinn pressed.

"I don't remember, Sir," Arthur responded, "I woke up here, in the cottage. I don't recall how I got to the Moor,"

Fhinn paused, realizing with slight disappointment that Arthur wasn't lying. Not even a flicker of deceit had crossed his fair features. The only thing Fhinn could discern was that he was clearly annoyed by his questions.

"Fair enough," Fhinn conceded as he rose from his chair and it creaked loudly, "But you'd be wise to watch yourself, Arthur," he suggested, jabbing a finger in his direction, "Any funny business and I'll have you thrown out of this village faster 'n' you can blink,"

Something dangerous flashed in Arthur's eyes just then, a flicker of something dark as he scowled at Fhinn.

"Noted... _Sir_ ," he said flatly.

They shared a brief, silent glare before Fhinn left the room.

Something was wrong with that young man. _Very_ wrong, and he wanted him out of his village. But with Alfred and now Irunya and Leesy taking a shine to him, that would prove to be more difficult. Besides, he hadn't actually done anything to warrant Fhinn's instant distrust of him. He just...didn't like him.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair as he accompanied his wife back to their home. Perhaps he was imagining things. Maybe Arthur just had unusually green eyes, perhaps like his parents or something. Perhaps there was nothing to worry about.

Perhaps.

* * *

_Everything hurt._

_He looked down at his hands, slick with his own blood, and shivered. Was all of that from him? There was so much, though. Someone was yelling from a distance, but he couldn't make out what they were saying._

_He wasn't...dying, was he? No, that was impossible. He was just in the field, playing in the tall grass and looking for--_

_"Please!" a woman's voice cried from somewhere, "I'll do anything!"_

_Who was that?_

_He gasped as he felt pressure on his abdomen, stinging dully as he began to go blissfully numb..._

_"It isn't your time," someone said softly, directly beside him with a voice so impossibly smooth and soothing he thought for certain he had imagined it._

_"Huh?" Alfred squeaked._

_And then everything had exploded into a flash of dazzling blue light. Had he been able to scream, he would have._

_Blue. Everything was blue, even the blades of grass surrounding him on all sides._

_"You hear that? You're going to live," the voice said as Alfred felt himself being lifted, gently brought upward into the arms of someone he couldn't quite see, save for the brightest pair of amber-colored eyes he had ever seen. They were frightening; sharp and feral like those of a wolf. The rest of whoever it was remained silhouetted, shrouded in darkness as the blue light pulsed from behind him and illuminated the strange spiral of hair jutting out from the side of his head._

_Alfred inhaled deeply as the pain in his stomach vanished and the arms around him tightened. He felt warm, drowsily so, as whoever it was rocked him gently back and forth. He closed his eyes, exhausted, as he nestled into the other's chest._

_"You're going to live," the voice promised, soft like a warm breeze, "...for a price,"_

* * *

Alfred screamed as he sat bolt upright, soaked in a cold sweat. Matt started awake from beside him, clumsily whirling around and blinking confusedly at him.

"...you all right?" Matt slurred as Alfred struggled to catch his breath. He had been bunking with his brother, since Arthur was using his bed. Aside from Matt's feet being terribly cold when he was unfortunate enough to make contact with them during the night, Alfred hadn't minded the arrangement too much until now. A minor sacrifice, until Arthur was healed up and Alfred had time to build another bedframe. It had only been a week, after all.

"Y-yeah," he stammered breathlessly, running a hand through his hair, "I, uh, just had a nightmare. Sorry," he murmured, embarrassed.

" 's all right," Matt yawned, shaking his head, "You wanna, uh...talk about it?" he asked awkwardly, scratching his head.

"No," Alfred snapped as he climbed out of bed, "I'm just, uh, gonna take a walk, all right?"

"Not in the Moor, though," Matt warned.

"Not in the Moor," Alfred lied as he crossed the dark room and fumbled around for his jacket. He slipped it on over his nightclothes and let himself out. It was fairly bright out, with the full moon and all, illuminating the landscape with a tranquil silver light. He inhaled deeply as a warm breeze tossed his bangs about, listening to the calls of the frogs and heading out toward the Moor.

He hadn't had that nightmare in ages. It always unnerved him simply because of how _real_ it felt. The first time he had dreamt it was shortly after his accident in the field as a small child, when one of the farmers' sickles had caught him in the abdomen as he had been sneaking through the tall weeds. His mother's sickle, if he recalled Fhinn's account correctly, but he chose not to believe that. She had died that next year, found curled into a ball, frozen, in the very field Alfred had been injured in. He shivered, drawing his coat more tightly around himself. That was how he and Matt had ended up with Fhinn and Leesy, with their father having been taken by illness shortly before Matt was born.

He drew a shaky breath as his bare feet fell upon soft moss, his steps silenced as he walked onward. He had never been able to shake the feeling that somehow he was responsible for his mother's passing. Why would she have gone out into the field that night, if not because of him? Perhaps she was upset over what had happened, and in a fit of sleepwalking wound up freezing to death out there? Everyone had tried to convince Alfred that none of that was true, but he couldn't quite bring himself to believe them.

Alfred paused as something strange caught his ear. A voice, low and soft, in a language Alfred did not know.

* * *

Arthur reached his hands out, palms outstretched as the spirits greeted him, clustering around him and twittering excitedly from where he sat in the grass. The Moor was quiet and abandoned, bathed in moonlight--the perfect time for him to venture out. His ankle still hurt, but he was able to hobble around with the aid of the walking stick Alfred had hewn for him. It was nicely made, actually, for a human, in which the natural shape of the branch had been retained. Arthur had to appreciate the boy's respect for nature, at least, although Alfred told him he wasn't to use it until at least another week.

But he couldn't afford to waste any more time. A week had certainly been long enough to delay this meeting. And, being what he was, he was healing much more quickly than the humans had expected. Slower than he would have liked, but quicker by mortal standards. Arthur had been careful to disguise his progress so as not to draw suspicion, but it was only a matter of time before they realized that he was not one of them.

He had to be healed up and out of their village before that happened.

"Hello there, my little friends," he said with a smile, his palms warm with their fiery glow as the spirits landed on his fingers and sat, "And thank you," he added pointedly, "I know that you must have shown that human where I was. I don't know what would have happened to me without your help,"

They giggled amongst themselves, flame-like lights twisting playfully around them as he laughed. Such wonderful companions, they were. And the humans dismissed them as evil spirits. Idiots. A fiesty green one, whom he affectionately had named "Mint," zoomed out and examined the back of his right palm, twittering fearfully as she wrung her tiny hands.

"Yes, Mint, I'm...in trouble," he admitted with a sigh as the other spirits followed suit to look at his hand. They shook their little heads sadly; one of them even approached and gently kissed him on the cheek. He smiled, murmuring his thanks as they assembled in front of him.

"I have been, erm...exiled," he said finally, the very sound of the word making him sick, "and someone whom I trusted is to blame. I...think you know the one," he added darkly. Mint flung her little fists into the air in righteous indignation on his behalf, chirping angrily as the others joined in. Arthur chuckled softly, grateful for their loyalty. At least he had someone he could count on.

...right?

"Hm?" he asked as Mint blurted a question at him, "Oh, yes, I fully intend on killing him. That's where you come in, if you're willing to help,"

They feverishly cheeped their agreement, flitting around him and pulsing their lights excitedly.

"Wonderful," he praised, "I need you to gather information for me. Tell me everything you know about what he's been up to, what he's planning to do,"

"How will this help?" he repeated as one of them asked, "It will help me formulate a plan. I'm going to have to ambush him, and the more knowledge I have, the better. Do you understand?"

They enthusiastically agreed, zooming in circles around him as he chuckled.

"I missed you all, truly," he admitted softly as Mint landed on his swollen ankle and ran her tiny fingertips along it sadly, "It's not as bad as it was," he said, gesturing toward his foot, "There is a human taking adequate care of me, believe it or not,"

Mint made an astonished noise as Arthur nodded.

"No, really," he insisted, "he's a clumsy oaf, but he has good intentions. He makes medicines for me, and feeds me, and...well, I guess I'm just useless, aren't I?" he trailed off as Mint shook her head and zipped over so she was directly in front of him.

She opened her mouth to speak--

\--and shrieked.

Arthur spun around to the source of her distress as the other spirits fluttered around him worriedly. In the cloud of frenzied, colored lights, his gaze fell upon another person standing in the Moor.

"Alfred," he blurted in disbelief, clambering to his feet as his stomach lurched. The human looked beyond confused, blinking at him spastically as if to clear his vision. Arthur hurriedly focused his energy on his Glamour, electrifying the air around them and giving the Moor that hazy look the humans associated with dreams. He might be able to pull this off, if he was careful.

"Arthur, what...?" Alfred trailed off, clearly flabbergasted as he stared at the lights from the spirits. Mint squeaked something at him.

"Yes, Mint, that's the one," he hissed to answer her, "Now hurry up and get invisible!"

His companions obeyed, winking out of sight as Alfred took a step forward.

"Stop!" Arthur warned, throwing his hand out. His Glamour shimmered, rippling in the air like water as Alfred stopped dead.

"Arthur, I, uh...I can't understand you," Alfred murmured, as if afraid of speaking too loudly.

Arthur mentally smacked himself. He had used his native tongue to call out to him, not the human's own language. Who was the idiot now?

"Alfred, what are you doing out here?" he asked softly in the proper language this time, adding to the dream-like scene he was working diligently on creating. The moonlight glowed brighter within his sphere of influence, shining on the surrounding flora and giving the leaves a crystal-like appearance. The dew clinging to them appeared as tiny glass baubles, jewel-like.

The human didn't answer him as he stared at the plants in disbelief. Arthur took the opportunity to grab his walking stick and carefully approach, moving much more quickly than he probably should have with his injury, but it mattered little now that he had been discovered. He ignored the angry throbbing of his ankle as he raced forward.

"Alfred, I asked you a question," he stated firmly, though keeping his voice soft as he leaned on his cane. His voice reverberated, echoing a little as he walked up to him. Alfred snapped his gaze back onto him, blue eyes wide.

"I...was going for a walk," Alfred answered stupidly; Arthur resisted the urge to smack him.

"In the middle of the night? In the Moor, of all places?" Arthur elaborated as he wove Glamour around himself, making himself appear to be glowing along with the plants. Alfred appeared to notice the difference, as his jaw fell open and his face flushed an ever so slight shade of pink. Arthur wagered that he must look quite beautiful, illuminated like this. That was always what Francis had told him, anyhow, though he would never touch him unless they were in the dark...

"You look...different," Alfred breathed, reaching a quivering hand out to touch him. Arthur stepped out of range, smiling at him.

"You should not be out here, Alfred," he stated slowly, focusing his efforts on making Alfred warmer. Humans responded strangely to warmth. It made them sleepy, compliant; Arthur had learned this well when he was younger.

To his surprise, his energy rebounded back at him, a soft puff of warm air that blew past his face and into the surrounding Moor.

He blinked, fear pooling in his stomach. How had Alfred repelled his power?! He couldn't _see_ _through_ his Glamour, could he?

Alfred appeared just as surprised as he was, visibly trembling as he worriedly licked his lips.

"W-what was that?" he whispered.

"I...don't know, Alfred," he responded, taking a hesitant step forward. He intensified the spell woven around himself and, very slowly, very gently, brought his hand to Alfred's face. The mortal shivered, whimpering softly as Arthur felt it. A pulse, a second heartbeat emanating from the young man in front of him in tiny waves.

Magic. Alfred was exuding magical energy--Glamour? No, not quite.

Not that it should be that surprising--humans gave off small amounts energy like this in their sleep all of the time, when they were having very vivid dreams. But while awake, though? And so strongly? Was that what he had noticed earlier, when Alfred had touched him?

Arthur pressed his other hand to Alfred's face, cupping it in his hands as he felt the surge of power seep through his palms. He drew a shaky breath, eyes falling closed as the electrifying energy filtered into him. He had fed on the dreams of mortals before, in order to heal, but _this_.

This was positively _intoxicating_. Arthur could drown in it forever, drinking it in until the world stood still and--

"...Arthur?" Alfred whispered.

Arthur forced his eyes open, breathing heavily with the effort of feeding and trying to maintain his illusion. Alfred was bright red, clearly embarrassed, but he didn't pull away. No, rather, he pulled him closer, wrapping his arms around him and bringing their mouths together.

Arthur struggled indignantly, furious, but paused. The flow of power was even stronger this way, filling him with that sweet energy...he gave in, pressing against the human and greedily devouring him, drinking in that strange, wondrous energy and draining him--

Arthur bit his lip as Alfred stumbled forward, exhausted; he had taken too much. Too much at once. He had to slow down, or he risked killing him. Arthur drew a shuddering breath, trying to calm himself and savoring the feel of the energy coursing through him as it slowly ebbed away. He would heal so much more quickly now that he had discovered this wonderful fountain of magic.

But Alfred had to be _alive_ in order to feed upon him.

 _"Patience,"_ he coached himself as he grabbed Alfred around the waist and half-carried him back toward the cottage, his walking stick clutched in his fist. He hardly even noticed his injury, thanks to Alfred's energy pulsing through him.

"...Arthur, where're we...?" Alfred slurred tiredly, eyes hazy and unfocused.

"Back home," Arthur explained quietly, maintaining the dream-like quality of their surroundings as well as himself as they moved. It wouldn't be long before the human was asleep, anyway.

He couldn't possibly _be_ human, could he? He certainly acted like one, always pestering him and trying to get Arthur to converse or share meals with him when he clearly just wanted to be _left alone_ to heal. Still, though, whatever magic the young man possessed was certainly unexpected. Whoever (or whatever, for that matter), Alfred was, Arthur was determined to find out.

He led Alfred back into the room he had been given, not wishing to disturb Matthew and draw yet another spectator into this whole ordeal. Alfred groaned, exhausted, as Arthur guided him onto the cot and climbed in next to him.

"Hush, now," Arthur instructed as he reached out and gently ran his fingertips through the young man's wheat-blonde hair, "Hush,"

* * *

Notes: "Glamour" is one of the Folk's most important survival mechanisms, in which magical power is used to disguise their form from mortal eyes. This can manifest in a variety of ways for most of the senses, although sight is by far the easiest to manipulate. I read somewhere that Glamour can be used to temporarily trick other Fae as well, though they can't fool one another by trying to disguise touch. Glamour can be used to attract human mates, by enhancing the Fae's appearance and reeling their targets in, or it can be used to push someone away who is perceived as a threat. It can also be used to make wings appear invisible, if a member of the Folk has them. The Fae also have the ability to feed on the energy produced by humans when they dream.

Also Flying Mint Bunny totally made it into this fic. Exulansis(t), I told you it was gonna happen ;)


	7. Glimmer

Alfred awoke later than usual, far past dawn. He smiled, sighing contentedly as he reflected on the dream he had last night. That wonderful, blissful dream.

He had kissed Arthur.

And he had just looked so stunning, beautiful beyond description in the silver glow of the moon. Gods, how he wished it had been real. The fact that Arthur had been out in the Moor and not laid up made it painfully obvious to Alfred that it was all, indeed, a dream. A mere fantasy contrived by his wild imagination. But even so, he thought to himself with a smile, that didn't mean he didn't want to reflect upon it for a while.

He rolled over onto his back and yawned, stretching and looking up at the ceiling.

The ceiling lined with his trinkets.

Alfred sat bolt upright and whirled around; sure enough, he was lying in his own bed, where Arthur should have been. He frowned as he hurried out of bed and ran into Matt's room to don proper clothing--when had he fallen asleep there? Why was he wearing his coat? And more importantly, where had Arthur gone?

He nearly fell out of the door in his haste, cursing and grabbing haphazardly onto the doorframe before he lost his balance.

"Mornin,' Alfred," a familiar voice greeted, "Or should I say afternoon?"

"H-hey, Gil," Alfred stammered weakly, looking around, "What time is it?"

"Beats me," Gil answered with a shrug, "Your lazy ass just get outta bed? What's the matter with you?" he teased, punching Alfred playfully on the arm, "By the way, I started your work for ya before Fhinn noticed, but you need to hop to it soon," he added with an arched brow.

"Thanks. Where's Arthur?" Alfred blurted as he worriedly looked around.

"Who?" Gil asked, blinking, "Oh, you mean the new guy," he deduced with a nod, "Over there, talkin' with Leesy,"

Alfred followed Gil's arm as he gestured in the direction of the village. Arthur was perched upon a boulder, no doubt patiently listening to Leesy ramble on about the haunted Moor or other such nonsense. He made a beeline for them without thinking, hastily bolting past the tree in their front yard.

"Hey!" Gil exclaimed, stepping in front of him to block his path, "Why the rush? It's not like Leesy's gonna kill him or something, you loon,"

Alfred sighed, managing a weak chuckle. He had to keep himself in-check; he was starting to act crazy. That dream. That stupid dream.

"Sorry, Gil," he apologized with a shrug, "I just...he's my responsibility, you know?"

"Sure," Gil agreed as he clapped a hang on Alfred's shoulder, "and from what I've heard, you've been doing a great job," he praised with a smile as Alfred smiled back gratefully.

"So, what's his deal? I heard he got robbed or something?" Gil asked, leaning on the tree and folding his arms, "I mean, I can barely get a word outta 'im," he added with a scowl.

"Yeah, he got jumped and all of his wares got stolen," Alfred answered as he took a sidelong look at Arthur and Leesy. Arthur looked rather annoyed, actually--Leesy was probably lecturing him about wandering around and exacerbating his injury.

"And they dumped him in the Moor, of all places?" Gil asked, shaking his head and whistling lowly, "He's lucky you found him before the Folk did,"

Alfred nodded, frowning.

"Matt doesn't like him, though," Alfred muttered, mostly to himself. He wasn't certain why, but his brother had made it very plain that he wanted as little to do with their guest as possible, which suited Alfred just fine.

"Eh, Matt doesn't like me either," Gil snorted, "Maybe you'll luck out and he'll get married first. Then you get the house to yourself!" he added with a bark-like laugh.

"Heh. Yeah, maybe," Alfred muttered. He didn't really mind living with his brother, though.

"But that Arthur guy...kinda quiet, isn't he?" Gil asked, glancing over at Arthur and frowning uncertainly, "Not exactly friendly,"

"Cut him some slack, Gil," Alfred insisted as he frowned, "He's been through a lot. And having Leesy over here yelling at him probably isn't helping,"

"Yelling?" Gil blurted with a laugh, "I don't hear her yelling, Alfred,"

"You know what I mean," Alfred snapped as he began walking toward Arthur.

"Oh hey!" Gil said as he caught up, stopping Alfred in his tracks, "I forgot to mention--we're forming a hunting party, gonna leave in two days. You in? I know it's kinda short notice, but...ya know. We'll only go out for probably, like, five days or so. No big deal,"

Alfred paused. He loved going out into the wilderness, but with the current situation...

"What about Arthur?" he asked.

"Matt can watch him," Gil reasoned, "It's only gonna be for a few days,"

"No, he wouldn't like that," Alfred said, referring to Arthur and not to his brother, "That's not fair to him,"

"Fine, maybe Irunya can help out, yeah?" Gil suggested as he tilted his head, "Matt ought to love that, won't he?" he added as he wiggled his eyebrows.

"Well..."

"C'mon, Alfred! You're the best tracker in the village!" Gil whined.

"All right, all right, I'll ask them," Alfred conceded, throwing his hands into the air.

"Good man!" Gil praised as he clapped him on the back, "See ya soon, then!" he chirped as he darted off in the direction of the fields. Alfred barely heard him as he hurried over to where Arthur was seated.

"...told 'im he should worry more about _'imself_ than about any damned--oh, Alfred! Good afternoon!" Leesy greeted with a dazzling smile.

"Good afternoon," he muttered, bowing his head.

"I was just talking to our new friend here," Leesy continued in that signature high-pitched voice of hers, "Surprised to see 'im up and hobblin' all the way out here. Should be restin,' gettin' his strength back,"

"Uh...yeah," Alfred agreed, noting how Arthur's eyes had narrowed at her while she spoke, obviously irritated, "Hey, Leesy, you're probably busy, so--"

"Oh, don't be ridiculous!" she interrupted as she embraced Alfred and squeezed him, "I love talking to Arthur! It's...well, it's almost like I've found me another son," she added quietly.

Alfred smiled sadly, returning her embrace. She had been the one to raise him and Matt after their mother had died. Sweet, but gods help whoever crossed her. Alfred had a switch taken to his backside on many occasions as she made sure to "keep him in line." She wasn't as quick as Fhinn was to dole out punishment when he was a child, though, which was nice. She made sure to check in on him and Matt often, sometimes too often. But, really, he would never even think to not welcome her into his home. He and Matt were the only children Leesy had, after her son had died years ago.

"We've been discussing a great number of things, haven't we?" she asked Arthur with a wink, releasing Alfred and grinning at him.

"Indeed," Arthur said coolly, folding his arms.

"Alfred, dear, have you gathered up enough food for the chickens?" she pried as Alfred fought the urge to roll his eyes, "I noticed last week that you were running a little low and I just wanted to--"

"I've got it under control, Leesy, thank you," Alfred insisted with a grin, "I have twice what we'll need in storage,"

"Good, good," she praised with a crooked grin, "And did Gil tell you about the hunting party? I think it'd do ya good to get out,"

"Yes, he did," Alfred answered as he stole a look at Arthur. He had arched an eyebrow at him, clearly listening.

"Good. And yer goin,' right?" Leesy asked pointedly.

Alfred hesitated. He didn't want to leave Arthur, but this _was_ the one thing he was useful for. Were it not for that, Alfred was fairly certain he would have been left in the wilderness to fend for himself years ago. The village couldn't afford to waste resources on someone who contributed nothing, after all.

"Yeah, I'm definitely in," Alfred answered as he forced a smile onto his face.

"Good! Oh, I'm glad," Leesy exclaimed as she clapped her hands excitedly, "Well, I'll let ya make preparations, then...see ya both soon!"

"See ya, Leesy," Alfred said as he waved her good-bye.

"Hunting party?" Arthur asked before Alfred even had a chance to open his mouth.

"Y-yeah, we're going out to bring back meat for the village," Alfred explained, feeling guilty for having to leave him, "You know...deer or elk, if we can find 'em, maybe a bear if we're lucky or--"

"When?" Arthur asked abruptly.

"Two days," Alfred responded, surprised. Arthur acted...upset?

"For how long?" Arthur asked with a thoughtful frown.

"Not too long...probably about five days or so?" Alfred guessed as the guilt came crashing down on him, "I-I mean, I wouldn't go if I didn't have to, but--"

"Five days," Arthur mused, looking down at the ground. Alfred squirmed, that damned dream from last night nagging in his mind's eye. He licked his lips, fancying vaguely that he could taste--

"If you don't want me to go, I won't," Alfred blurted suddenly, causing the other to look up at him in surprise. Gods, those green eyes.

"No, no, I understand," Arthur insisted with a small smile, "It'll just be much...quieter without you around, I suppose,"

"Y-yeah," Alfred laughed awkwardly as he watched Arthur's expression. As usual, he couldn't read him. At all.

"So I take it you're feeling better, being all the way out here and all," Alfred asked as he gestured toward the walking stick he had made for Arthur which was braced against the boulder, "You know, you're not supposed to be using this thing yet," he scolded.

"But I _can_ ," Arthur stated matter-of-factly, arching an eyebrow at him, "and it's not that far from your home," he added pointedly.

"Well, sure, but you're also going to mess your leg all up," Alfred pointed out as Arthur sighed.

"I've already been told all of this, I assure you," he said flatly, "I just...needed a change of scenery, I suppose,"

"Sorry, don't mean to be a nag," Alfred laughed as he cautiously sat down on the edge of the boulder beside Arthur, "I get it. I get like that a lot, actually," he added quietly.

Arthur was quiet for a moment, staring not at the village, but out in the direction of the Moor. Alfred eyed him warily, mouth going dry. Was he angry about him stealing his bed? What if Alfred had forced him to leave or something and didn't remember? And _why_ had he had his jacket on?

"Did you sleep well, Alfred?" he asked after a time, turning to look at him. Alfred gulped, digging his fingernails into his palm to keep himself in-check.

"Uh..." he blurted stupidly, "...yes?"

"Well that didn't sound very convincing," Arthur said with a snort, the smallest of smiles perking up the edges of his lips, "You were quite restless last night,"

"I was?" Alfred squeaked as he felt heat rising in his cheeks, "I...well, I...Arthur, I'm sorry!" he spluttered, clutching his knees.

"For what?" Arthur asked innocently, those green eyes blinking at him.

"S-stealing your bed," Alfred mumbled, looking down at his hands, "I...did I kick you out or something?"

"What? No, no, nothing like that," Arthur said lightly, waving his hand.

"Oh," Alfred exhaled gratefully, "Oh, good. I was afraid that I--"

"You climbed into bed with me," Arthur stated frankly.

All rational thought ground to a screeching halt as Alfred snapped his gaze onto Arthur in horror. The other man tilted his head, obviously confused.

"Are you all right?" Arthur asked, "You turned rather pale just now,"

Alfred managed a few jumbled syllables as he struggled to collect himself. Oh gods, WHAT had he been THINKING? Was it something he had eaten before bed, perhaps? Damn Matt and his infernal vegetable dish he had made for supper that night, full of odd spices. Maybe one of them had done something to his mind, made him...sleepwalk?

"Uhh, w-well," he stammered as he sprang to his feet and stared out at the Moor, at the village, at a renegade chicken darting across the path--at _anything_ that was not Arthur, "It's just...I didn't mean..."

He trailed off as, to his great surprise, Arthur laughed. Breathy and soft, more like a sigh. He reluctantly turned to look at him. Green met blue as Arthur shook his head.

"It's all right, Alfred, really," Arthur said, "It technically _is_ your bed. You just wandered back into it, that's all,"

"But you...uh..." Alfred blundered, waving his hand, "...you know,"

"I didn't mind," Arthur added.

Oh.

Wait.

OH.

No way. It was simply too good to be true.

Stop it.

STOP.

"Uh, o-okay! I, uh, I'll make sure that doesn't happen again, then!" Alfred practically screamed as he hunched his shoulders to hide his blazing red ears, "I'll just...maybe I'll just lock myself in the wardrobe or something tonight so I won't sleepwalk--"

He cut himself off with a decidedly unmanly squeak as Arthur gently touched his shoulder. Alfred had missed seeing him stand up, too preoccupied with the present wave of sheer panic. To his surprise, no...odd feeling ensued. None at all.

"Alfred," Arthur stated.

"...yeah?" Alfred rasped, reluctantly turning to face him.

"I truly don't mind," Arthur insisted as he took his hand away, "I mean, it's fairly common, yes? You and Matthew were sharing a bed to accommodate me," he pointed out.

"Well, yeah, but he's my _brother_. You're..." Alfred blurted in horror before he could stop himself. He instantly regretted it at the look on Arthur's face. His eyes seemed to lose their brightness, somehow, ever so slight but enough that Alfred noticed. His mouth twitched into a frown as he nodded slowly and looked away.

"Ah. Of course," he stated simply as he took his walking stick and began hobbling his way back to the house.

"Wait!" Alfred shouted, cursing his lack of tact as he rushed to his side, "Arthur, I didn't mean--"

"I understand, Alfred," Arthur sighed, not stopping his walking (although it was painfully slow), "You are horrified at the idea of being so close to me. That's fine,"

"What? No!" Alfred blurted, "That's not it at all! I...I just feel like I invaded your space, that's all. I don't want to make you feel... you know, _weird_ ,"

"But I already explained that you didn't," Arthur pointed out.

Alfred gaped at him for a moment, snapping his jaw closed with an audible click.

"But you are obviously uncomfortable by it, which is fine," Arthur continued as he finally made his way up to Alfred's front door. He grasped the handle and pried the door open while Alfred stood in stunned silence.

That wasn't it. That wasn't it at ALL, but...

Alfred sighed, running his hands through his bangs as the door closed behind Arthur.

* * *

Arthur frowned, shaking his head as he entered the humans' home.

Two days?! He only had two days and then he'd be without Alfred for nearly a week. It was maddening. Sure, he finally discovers a wellspring of magical power that would be of use to him and it goes walking away.

Fantastic.

He dragged himself into what should have been Alfred's bedroom, his walking stick making loud thunking sounds on the floorboards. He hadn't killed Alfred the night before--thankfully--but he wouldn't be able to draw anything else from him safely at least until nightfall. No energy had seeped out of him upon Arthur touching him today. He had, in essence, mistakenly tapped the well dry. As an added point of annoyance, the healing process hadn't been as accelerated as he had hoped, but it had only been a single event. He had to be _patient_.

Which would prove to be a more difficult task than he'd anticipated, unfortunately. He knew the boy was (dare he even think it?) attracted to him, at least on some level, for him to pull Arthur into a kiss like that out on the marshy plains of the Moor. Arthur assumed it would be a simple task to get him to agree to bunk with him so he could feed on him at night, but that was not the case. Alfred had almost acted...disgusted.

_Disgusted_ of him.

_"Maybe it's because he can_ see _you,"_ his mind told him, mocking him.

"Stop it," he hissed, shaking his head furiously as he sank onto the bed. He closed his eyes and breathed through his nose, trying to calm himself. It didn't matter what Alfred thought of him, anyway. Arthur cared not for the affairs of humans. His task was to _survive_ , to prove to those who had the audacity to exile him how wrong they were, to take revenge on that conniving, useless--

_"It's better this way,"_ Francis's voice soothed from somewhere in his mind, unbidden, _"It isn't that I don't want to see you, but...this way, no one will see_ us _. They won't ever find out about us as long as it's dark. You know how they talk. You wouldn't want that, would you? It's for our protection. To keep our secret safe,"_

Arthur growled and hurled his walking stick across the room. It clattered to the floor as he drew his knees to his chest. His ankle throbbed angrily at him, not to mention his right hand, but he ignored them in favor of sulking. Who was he kidding? Alfred was only being kind to him because he simply didn't know any better. If he did, he would realize that Arthur ruined everyone who was unfortunate enough to get too close to him. He had even managed to ruin his own life.

He supposed the only exception had indeed been Francis. With him, there was simply nothing left for Arthur to extinguish. He was strangely empty. That's why...why Arthur had thought, perhaps...

Enough.

But that was Arthur's purpose in life, wasn't it? To ruin. To destroy. As much as he tried, that was what always happened. With every single life bound to his own.

He looked up as footsteps bounded into the house. Alfred appeared in the doorway, smiling.

"Hey, what are you doing inside?" he asked as he walked in. He paused to throw a wary glance at the walking stick lying on the opposite side of the room.

Arthur drew his knees closer to his chest, eyeing the human suspiciously.

"It's really nice outside today, you know," Alfred said gently as he slowly approached, "I could take you down to the village. You'd get a whole different view there. I'm sure you're bored of just staring at the ceiling all day," he offered as he sat down on the bed beside Arthur.

"No," Arthur snapped, "I don't want to. Besides, I can't even walk that far," he hissed.

"I'll carry you," Alfred offered, causing Arthur to gape at him. The human's cheeks turned slightly red, but he seemed sincere.

"You're serious," Arthur blurted.

"Course I am!" Alfred laughed, "And, Arthur, I'm sorry for earlier. I didn't mean for it to come across that way,"

"It's...fine," Arthur grumbled.

"No, really--I just want you to know--" Alfred tried.

"Alfred, I really don't--" Arthur sighed.

"I think you're great, Arthur, and I'd really like to spend more time with you," Alfred said suddenly.

It was Arthur's turn to be stunned. He blinked at Alfred in surprise for a few moments before regaining his composure.

"I...I'd like that too, Alfred," he managed over the lump in his throat. It was true, that way he could feed on more of that wonderful energy the lad possessed, "But I would rather you didn't haul me off to the village like a sack of grain,"

Alfred laughed, shaking his head.

"All right, all right," he conceded as he rose and crossed the room. He picked up his bagpipes from on top of a trunk Arthur assumed held clothing, then stooped down to retrieve Arthur's walking stick.

"Here," Alfred said as he handed the walking stick to Arthur.

Arthur arched an eyebrow at him and opened his mouth to ask what exactly Alfred was expecting from him when the human laughed. It was a nice sound, Arthur thought vaguely. Very bright. Melodic, in a strange way.

"Well if I can't drag you into town, you can at least let me play some music for you," Alfred said with a shy smile, "Sound good?"

Arthur felt something stir in his chest; he coughed to shove it down.

"Well, all right," Arthur sighed as he got to his feet and leaned on his walking stick, "If you insist,"


	8. Flicker

Arthur sat against the tree in Alfred's front yard, listening to him play the pipes. It was strange, hearing a human that young playing so well. He must have had an exceptional teacher when he was a child. The lad never seemed to run out of air, the constant low note of the drone echoing and falling into the plains of the Moor below.

He frowned thoughtfully as he looked Alfred over. He certainly _appeared_ human, adopted their mannerisms and all, but that didn't explain how in the world that kind of power came to rest within him. And it was very strange energy, Arthur noted as he brought a hand to his chin in contemplation. Nothing like he had experienced as a member of the Court. No, this was...odd. Much more potent than what he was used to, and from a _human_?

Alfred finally came up for air as he finished his tune, opening his eyes and turning toward Arthur for approval. Arthur humored him, clapping his hands as was customary for humans when they were pleased with something. At least he hoped it was--it had been a long time since he had been in the company of mortals.

Thankfully, his guess seemed to be correct as Alfred smiled brightly at him.

"Heh, thanks!" Alfred panted as he plunked down beside him in the shade of the tree. It was late morning, sunlight filtering through the overhead clouds and dotting the marshy meadow. Arthur stared out it for a time, half-listening to Alfred prattle on.

"...glad you're here, Arthur. It's nice to have somebody to talk to," he stated.

Well that caught his attention. Arthur turned and looked at him, noting how the boy's face was flushed and wouldn't meet his gaze.

"Hm? But you have Matthew," Arthur pointed out.

Alfred didn't respond for a moment, a distant, haunted look to his eyes.

"...Alfred?" Arthur pressed. Not that he was concerned or anything.

"Uh...yeah, Matt's...he's all right," Alfred mumbled as he ran a hand through his hair.

"I take it that you and your brother aren't close, then," Arthur pried. This was promising, actually. Less witnesses for when Arthur needed to tap into that energy of his.

"No, no we are," Alfred blurted, stealing a look at him before returning his gaze out to the Moor, "It's just...we're just different,"

"And that's...bad," Arthur deduced. Humans and their strange customs.

"No, it's..." Alfred trailed off as noise resounded from the village down the hill from below. Bells?

"What's that?" Arthur asked, feeling a twinge of panic.

"Oh, those are the bells to call everyone to lunch," Alfred answered, "You know, call 'em in from working out in the fields or wherever,"

"...and you are not attending?" Arthur asked, genuinely curious now.

"No," Alfred answered curtly as he shifted and began fussing with the hem of his shirt. Arthur's eyes narrowed at him suspiciously.

"Any reason why?" Arthur asked.

Alfred hesitated, biting his lip. Arthur blinked; had he said something offensive? It was entirely possible at this point. He was about to say something else when Alfred very quietly answered him.

"I'm no good at anything, so I don't go," he said softly, almost inaudibly.

Arthur gaped at him.

"Nonsense!" he insisted, "Just listen to your music! And these!" he added as he pointed to the green beads wrapped around his wrist, "Surely the villagers appreciate...or, perhaps they do not," he trailed off as Alfred furiously rubbed his eyes.

Oh dear.

"I'm really not good at anything, Arthur," Alfred confessed, tilting his head up toward the leaves of the tree and blinking spastically.

"You just told me not an hour ago that you were a skilled hunter. Otherwise they wouldn't want you going with them, yes?" Arthur stated, annoyed for some reason.

"Well, yeah, but that's pretty much it," Alfred admitted with a sigh.

"Well perhaps if you tried to take up a trade, you might--"

"I have," Alfred admitted as he threw his hands into the air, "I'm just not good at anything that doesn't involve wandering around outside or making useless stuff, I guess," he mumbled, flopping his hands back onto the ground in defeat.

Well, this was unexpected. This loud, overly friendly human was making himself out to be some kind of outcast. Arthur had a difficult time believing it, although that would explain why he was almost always around the home. He had assumed it was so Alfred could take care of him, but perhaps it was simply because he felt that he wasn't welcome in the village. Or, perhaps he was _asked_ to stay away.

Arthur could relate to that all too well, actually.

No. Focus.

Hold on. What had he just said...?

"Wait, 'useless'?" Arthur spluttered, "Are you referring to the items you make?"

"Well, yeah, I mean you can't really use them for anything except for going fishing," Alfred shrugged, stealing a look over at him with glassy blue eyes, "I mean I've got all this stuff that'll never..." he trailed off as he shook his head and shrugged.

"What--fishing? You throw these into the _water_? Are you a lunatic?!" Arthur blurted before he could stop himself.

Alfred had actually jumped at his outburst, staring at him in surprise. Arthur breathed through his nose, trying to calm himself. He had always had a weak spot for shimmering things, damn it all.

"...they work, though," Alfred squeaked.

"I'm sure they do, but your artwork should not be wasted on fish," Arthur scolded as he crossed his arms over his chest, "I'm sure your mother would agree. Where is she?" he asked.

He immediately wished he hadn't. Alfred gasped softly and turned away, eyes dulling with what even Arthur could recognize as sadness.

"That...that _was_ her earlier, wasn't it? That woman who was talking to us?" Arthur spluttered as he tried to undo the damage.

"No, that...that's not her," Alfred explained as his voice cracked; he coughed rather dramatically to cover it up, "Leesy raised us, but our mother died years ago,"

"I see. Apologies," Arthur murmured, cursing himself.

"It's all right," Alfred reassured him with a half-hearted smile, "Leesy and Fhinn took us in after they...after they found her,"

"... _found_ her?" Arthur repeated, morbidly intrigued.

"She froze to death out in the field," Alfred nearly whispered, staring down at the ground, "It was a year after my accident, but--"

"Accident? What accident?" Arthur blurted.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't be bothering you with this," Alfred muttered with a sigh.

"You didn't answer my question," Arthur snapped as Alfred winced.

Arthur paused; perhaps he had pushed too far? _Ugh_. Humans.

"Apologies, Alfred," he said quietly.

Alfred smiled at him, nodding in gratitude as Arthur sighed softly in relief. The last thing he needed was to alienate the human now.

"Anyway, Arthur, I should go catch up on my work," he said with an air of hesitation, "Gil helped me out this morning but I need to get a move on,"

"What do you need to do?" Arthur asked half-heartedly. He was more interested in when the young man was going to be back home, honestly, but figured he should inquire to keep up appearances.

Alfred seemed to appreciate the gesture, smiling at him as he drew a deep breath.

"Well, let's see...I look after the animals in the stables, so I'll need to do a lot of work in there, " he mused with a sigh, "And I'm supposed to help plant the north field, so--"

"The entire thing?" Arthur asked.

"Well I mean I'm just getting started on it, but yeah," Alfred elaborated with a thoughtful frown, "Why?

"That is a significant amount of work," Arthur stated. Truthfully, this was exactly what Arthur had hoped for. Nothing like a hard day of manual labor to put a man out. The perfect opportunity to see how Alfred's magical reserves had replenished themselves later that evening...

"Yeah, but it needs to get done or we won't have enough vegetables later in the season," Alfred explained as he got to his feet. He threw Arthur a sheepish smile, running a hand through his hair.

"So...are you all right here for a bit...?" Alfred trailed off awkwardly.

"I'm perfectly fine," Arthur answered with nod.

"...no long walks, all right?" Alfred warned as he pointed his index finger at him. Arthur glared at him briefly before catching himself. Oh, he _hated_ it when people did that.

"Of course not," he said sweetly, watching Alfred as he bid him good bye and dashed into the house. He emerged moments later without his pipes, waving at Arthur with a bright smile. Arthur returned the gesture, forcing a broad smile to creep across his face; it was almost painful. It abruptly disappeared as Alfred rushed into the village, his vibrant blonde hair waving as he ran. Arthur shook his head, leaning back onto the tree and gazing out toward the Moor.

Curious name, that. "Moor." He had picked the term up from humans centuries ago; something about the reverence to the name appealed to him, as if it was a sacred place. To Arthur (and others of his kind), it indeed was.

It was where his ancestors had made their dwelling after the war with the humans, where generations of Folk had built their bejeweled, subterranean halls and held grand ceremonies. Where Arthur had been born and raised, travelling between settlements as a merchant and, years later...

He gulped, trying to push the memory down, but it refused to be silenced. It bubbled angrily upward, flooding his mind's eye and filling his ears.

* * *

_The cry of the horns, shrieking and wild across the mossy bog._

_The chill of the misty rain against his skin, slowly but surely sinking through his heavy tunic._

_Warmth seeping across his head and into his eyes, blinding him as he frantically tried to blink it away._

_There were far too many of them._

_They had him surrounded._

_The horns were silent._

_And he was going to die._

_He looked to his left as the only remaining soldier in his battalion (aside from himself) crumpled to the ground with a sickly, soggy thud. His bright teal eyes faded into a muted jade as he stopped moving altogether, gaping up at Arthur with a bewildered expression._

_He had_ _**led them out here** _ _. He, the Court's brilliant strategist, had deduced precisely where the enemy would be hiding. His calculations had been flawless, pinpointing their location in the vast wilderness._

_He had, however, sorely underestimated their skill. What Arthur had in numbers, they had in experience. They knew this land, all of its hiding places..._

_...and exactly which direction Arthur's men had to approach from in order to launch an attack._

_It was his fault._

_They had all died because of him._

_Lives destroyed, futures decimated all because of his arrogance._

_Arthur whirled around, bow in-hand as he scanned the foggy lowland for any sign of movement. He grabbed an arrow from the quiver upon his back and set it, drawing the string back as he circled the ring of his downed tribesmen like a predator. He paced slowly, heart pounding in his ears as the bowstring groaned in his trembling hands._

**Snap.**

_He gasped and pivoted toward the sound, eyes wild and breath uneven._

**Rustle.**

_He whirled in the opposite direction, diligently moving in his persistent circle. They were dead, all of them--there was no reason to protect any of his kinsmen anymore, but in his bewildered state, his duty was all he could manage to hold onto._

"Fight alongside your brothers," _he had been told._

_And fight alongside them he would, until the bitter end--_

**CRACK.**

_Arthur shouted wordlessly, unleashing his arrow directly behind him with a loud whistle and hum of the bowstring--_

_\--only to have it caught between two slim, nimble fingers._

_Pain. Burning, hot pain shot from one end of his body to the other, slicing him in-two._

_Arthur whimpered pathetically as he fell to his knees, his flayed chest weeping through his torn uniform. A pair of amber-colored eyes glared at him as everything turned to black._

_But it was far from over._

_A smooth voice comforting him through the haze of his fever, shimmering blue eyes and long blonde hair hovering over him worriedly as his wounds were cleansed and dressed. Soft promises made in darkness, eloquent whispers carrying him down into sleep. His world became one of being half-alive, clinging to his existence by a single fragile thread._

_He should have just let go._

* * *

Arthur roused himself from his trance, blinking furiously. Spots of mottled light danced across his vision, the price he paid for staring out into the sunlit bog for far too long. He sighed, settling against the tree until he was comfortable.

He inhaled and closed his eyes, taking in the faintest hint of saltiness from the gray sea beyond. Couldn't he have one memory that didn't involve _him_? He had saved his life once, and then subsequently turned around and ruined it.

Heh. "Ruined." How fitting. Arthur truly deserved him.

His thoughts gradually turned back to Alfred and his decidedly odd situation. He seemed to get along well enough with Matthew and that strange silver-haired young man from the village. Alfred certainly had the distinct impression that he was not wanted, though.

But how could that be? Arthur was more than just mildly impressed with the boy's musical talent, not to mention his craftsmanship. He opened his eyes and looked down at the lovely bracelet Alfred had given him. The way the green beads flashed in the midday sunlight, the quality of the complex braiding of the grasses binding everything together... _very_ complex, actually. Where could Alfred have picked up such talent? And why in the world he would keep his creations inside, save for...Arthur blanched. _Fishing_. UGH.

Still, surely the other villagers would appreciate his handiwork were they to see it. Perhaps Alfred could sell them, make a living that way.

He paused, reflecting on his and Alfred's conversation from earlier. Alfred had mentioned that there were many more things he'd built, probably of varying sizes and complexity and shininess...Arthur felt his palms starting to itch at the very prospect.

"I wonder..." he muttered as he glanced back toward the house.

No. No, the humans wouldn't like him going through their things. Very possessive creatures, they were. Alfred would be furious if he walked in and found his artwork strewn about.

If...he walked in.

Arthur looked up at the sky, at the sun hovering almost directly overhead. Alfred was out completing chores he had neglected when he had slept in. Surely they would take him the rest of the day.

Arthur frowned thoughtfully as he looked back at the house.

Well, it was only midday.

Alfred would never have to know.

Arthur hobbled into Alfred's room and looked around. It was sparsely furnished and simple, now that Arthur had the opportunity to look it over from somewhere besides in bed. A tall wardrobe rested on the other side of the room, flanked by the rather large, old-looking trunk Alfred had set his bagpipes on. A table which most likely served as a desk stood nearby, though Arthur doubted it was used very often; Alfred probably couldn't sit still long enough to write half a page.

Alfred's bed was nestled against the wall, with a view out of the small window that looked out over the boggy meadow. The shutters were closed, remaining so from the night prior since Arthur hadn't wanted to risk waking the human by opening them. Alfred was a sound sleeper, not moving for at all for most of the night while Arthur lay awake. He had spent hours staring into the darkness and listening to the human's breath, reaching out for that ever-present magic with a spark of hope.

Well, at least Alfred's sleep _had_ been sound, until the wee hours before dawn when he had suddenly slung his arm across Arthur's chest. Arthur had gone rigid as a board, blinking feverishly at the ceiling while Alfred mumbled nonsense at him. Arthur couldn't have moved even if he had wanted to at that point, unfortunately. He had somehow managed to fall asleep for a while, awakening a little after dawn to find that Alfred's arm had found its way onto his pillow instead. Once freed, he was able to climb out and make his escape, but it had been a very long night.

Arthur yawned, hobbling across the room and approaching the wardrobe. He frowned; it was covered in a fine layer of dust, as if it hadn't been opened in ages. He tugged one of the doors open with a loud creak and peered inside. To his surprise, it was mostly empty. A few shirts and a pairs of pants hung from pegs in the back of the wardrobe, a scarf, and...something loud and very, very plaid. A kilt? Arthur had seen human men wear them before, though not so far in this village. Perhaps they were only reserved for special occasions? A dark-colored jacket with decorated sleeves hung beside it, most likely some kind of formal attire.

He closed the wardrobe with a thoughtful frown, his thoughts straying toward what Alfred might look like in a kilt. Ridiculous, probably, with those long legs of his, and that jacket would most likely be too snug around his broad shoulders, tightly hugging his frame and...

Arthur reached up and wiped his brow. It was much warmer in here now than he recalled upon walking in. Must be that midday sun shining down onto the house.

His gaze shifted onto the trunk. Unlike the wardrobe, it was fashioned of faded, almost gray-colored wood. It was quite old, Arthur mused as he snuck a look over his shoulder at the empty doorway. He turned back to the trunk, seating himself upon the floor and setting his walking stick down beside him. He ran his hands along the lid, finding the latches and carefully throwing them open. They unlocked with a soft click, and he slowly pried the trunk open.

The pleasant scent of cedar filled his nostrils as an array of bright colors blinked up at him. Blues, purples, crimsons and _greens_ \--beads and ribbons and shining things of every color imaginable lined the very full trunk, woven into intricate webs of wild marsh grasses. Arthur reached out, picked one up, and held it up. What looked like threads of spun glass fell across his fingertips, cascading out and downward. A series of glimmering shards of some material Arthur couldn't name hung from the intricate glass lacework, tinkling together pleasantly. Something to catch the wind, perhaps. Arthur smiled; he had to hand it to Alfred. The lad did have an eye for aesthetics.

He pulled out multiple pieces, admiring each in-turn and laying them gently out onto the floor. As he approached the bottom of the trunk, however, something else caught his eye. Tattered parchment, hastily shoved into the trunk. Arthur tsked and reached out for one of them. He peeled it open, the paper crunching angrily as it was unfolded.

He gasped.

Messy handwriting danced across the page, ink splotches haphazardly dotting the parchment like blood spatter as Arthur read the words with wide eyes. Primitive, childish sketches filled the spaces between words. Caricatures of humans, as far as Arthur could tell. One of them was wearing a dress, standing beside two shorter humans. All three smiled and held one another's hands.

There were no sentences, only fragments. Frantic words scribbled hastily by someone who was clearly distressed. A child? Alfred?

"Lonely" and "Home?" written over and over again in steadily messier penmanship, words growing larger with each stroke of the quill. The bottom of the page depicted the two short humans crying, hunched over something. A rock?

Arthur hurriedly pulled out another paper, pulse racing.

"Lonely" again, the only word on this page. This one appeared older, the handwriting more haphazard as Arthur looked on in awe. The pictures on this one were even less refined than those on the previous page, showing what Arthur assumed was a human child doing various things (running, throwing its hands up for whatever reason), but its face had been scribbled out in each sketch.

The words were simple, the message unclear, but nonetheless they made Arthur's mouth go dry. It was impossible. These sheets could not possibly be Alfred's.

They were not written in a human language.


	9. Glint

Alfred hummed to himself as he stooped down and pressed seeds into the freshly-tilled soil. It had taken him practically all day just to get the damned field plowed; he was glad he had Blayre to help him out.

"Good girl, Blayre," he praised as the mule brayed irritably, "Yeah, yeah, I know," he mumbled as he stood up to fetch the creature's feed bag. He winced as his spine audibly popped, rubbing what of his back he could reach and loudly exhaling.

"I'm gonna be hurting tomorrow, that's for certain," he sighed. The mule grunted at him as he slipped the bag of feed over her head. She dove into it greedily, her entire face disappearing into the burlap as she ate.

"Good idea," Alfred laughed as he plopped onto the grass and opened the satchel hanging from the mule's side. He grabbed the lump of bread he had managed to grab after everyone had returned to the fields from lunch and bit into it. A tad stale, but not horrible. At least he had avoided conversing with most of the villagers. Not that he didn't _like_ them, but it was just easier to not have to deal with the awkwardness. He wasn't talented like Matt was, and they all knew it. Alfred sometimes fancied that they thought he was cursed or something, that being associated with him was bad luck.

More than just sometimes, he fancied that they were right.

He looked up at the rapidly dimming sky, noting how the stars were already starting to come out. They stood out against the redness creeping down along the horizon, diamonds shining on a field of red satin.

He sighed and closed his eyes, lacing his fingers behind his head after finishing his meal and listening to the soft voice of the wind. He loved this time of the evening, when day and night met. There was something peaceful about it. The air had a slight chilliness to it as it ruffled his bangs, refreshing and comfortable after working all day long. He inhaled the scent of earth, folding his arms over his chest as he looked out over the half-planted field.

Not too bad for one day, he figured, considering that he had mucked out four of the stalls where they kept the cattle overnight as well. At least Gil had gotten most of them done beforehand; Alfred made a mental note to thank him later.

"All right, Blayre, I think we're done here," he declared as he stood up and stretched. The mule turned her head toward him, still hidden inside of the feed bag. Alfred chuckled as he removed it, patted her on the neck, and turned to lead her back to her stable.

* * *

Fhinn sighed as he took another dreg of his drink, frowning thoughtfully into the evening sky from the front of his home. The mountains in the distance appeared to be on fire in the redness of the sun. He watched as it descended into the sea, giving everything around him a strange, otherworldly appearance.

He shuddered; he hated this time of day.

This was the time when _they_ came out, when they thought Fhinn couldn't see them creeping among the thornbushes in the lowlands or scurrying along the banks of the brooks in the fields.

But he knew they were there. Plotting. Those sharp, evil eyes taking in his village and thinking of how to trample it, destroy it somehow.

Heh. They'd need to try harder than just creeping around in the shadows as long as he was alive.

He frowned and swiftly downed the rest of his drink, squeezing his eyes shut as his throat burned.

_If only he had been more diligent back then._

He had told Leesy, but she didn't believe him the night Edwin had disappeared. He had only been a few days old, a mere babe nestled into his cradle at his parents' bedside when it had happened. Fhinn remembered being jolted awake by his wife's horrified scream, the way her eyes bulged as she pointed at the cradle and the nearby window, how the shutters had gently swayed, freed from their latches.

He recalled running outside and waking up the entire goddamned village. All of them had searched, men and women alike. Edwin would be found. He would be safe.

At least he had thought so, until he had found Moira.

He shivered as the image of her frozen corpse flashed across his closed eyelids, clinging to her knees as she lay on her side, curled into a tiny ball. Her blue face had been frozen into a pained expression, glassy gray eyes staring blankly into the empty field.

It had been a tragedy, yes, a mother leaving two young boys behind.

But he hadn't told anyone about the most disturbing detail. Something had been clutched between her hardened, frozen fingertips. He had managed to yank it out before anyone else saw her body, but he knew where it must have come from.

A bolt of pale blue fabric, a tiny shred of Edwin's clothing.

Fhinn drew a shuddering breath as a lump built in his throat. She had taken him, he was certain of that, but where, and for the love of all things good, WHY? What had happened to him? To her?

His wife would hear nothing of it a week later, pummeling him with her fists and calling him a liar as she had retreated into their bedroom and bitterly sobbed. Fhinn had done his best to comfort her, and hadn't brought up his theory since. He loved her, and even the pain of losing their only child couldn't mask his desire to protect her. She had enough to contend with aside from baseless accusations.

But...were they truly baseless?

His suspicions were aroused again years later, when Alfred and Matthew had come to live in his home. He considered them both to be his sons--still did--but he couldn't help but wonder about the eldest boy. Alfred had a knack for...odd things.

When the other children would be playing together, Alfred would prefer to sit beneath a tree or hide in some hollow in the Moor of all places (much to Fhinn and his wife's displeasure). Every single time Fhinn had gone looking for him, he had discovered Alfred making...something. Odd trinkets, hewn from old dirty stones he no doubt plucked from the moist earth of the Moor. He wove strands of grasses around them, plucked twigs and bits of twine and all manner of rubbish and threw them all together into a mangled heap the boy proclaimed as a work of art.

Fhinn had tried to get him to stop wasting his time on dry rotted old twine and dusty rocks and encouraged him to take up a trade, but it appeared that he lacked the ability to perform any village task without great difficulty (not to mention anxiety). The only time he felt at ease, it seemed, was when he was allowed to wander. It had served the village well, with his unusually sharp tracking skills, but Fhinn couldn't help but wonder if there was something more to that boy than met the eye.

Eyes.

Those _blue eyes_. They had gotten brighter as the lad had aged, it seemed. Almost as if--

"No," he muttered as he shook his head and turned to walk back into the house. Leesy would be putting dinner on shortly, anyway, "No, I can't believe that,"

* * *

Alfred eagerly opened the front door of his home, looking forward to talking with Arthur and seeing how he had spent the rest of his day. He expected to find him waiting for him at the dinner table, maybe with that quirky little smile of his.

Well, he was right about one thing: Arthur was seated at the table, but he certainly wasn't smiling. In fact, he looked positively miserable; his hands were folded tightly over his chest, his face set into a scowl as his narrow green eyes seethed at the man seated across from him.

"Ah, you're finally home," Matt snapped as Alfred cautiously closed the door behind him.

"What's...going on?" Alfred asked reluctantly as Arthur turned to look at him. His expression immediately softened as he opened his mouth to speak--

"Your friend here is a bloody _thief_ , that's what," Matt stated before Arthur could even get a word out. He snapped his gaze onto Matt, glaring at him.

"How dare you," he hissed.

"How dare _I_?" Matt blurted with a bark-like laugh, "I wasn't the one going through Alfred's things. And I _live here_ ," he added with a scowl.

"I wasn't _stealing_ anything," Arthur insisted as he slammed his left hand down onto the tabletop for emphasis.

"Then what were you doing?" Matt asked with an arched brow.

"I already told you," Arthur snarled, "I was just looking--"

"Though my brother's belongings," Matt finished for him as he waved his hands in a gesture of disbelief.

"YES," Arthur snapped.

"And for what reason, other than to steal something?" Matt inquired snidely as Arthur lurched up from his seat and glared at him over the table; Matt flinched, actually looking frightened for a moment.

"All right, both of you, that's enough," Alfred warned as he took the seat at the end of the table, between the two of them. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Gods, he was tired.

"Arthur, what is this about you going through my stuff?" he asked as he looked over at him. Arthur inhaled deeply before answering, dropping his eyes down into his lap as he took his seat again.

"I...I was simply looking around, Alfred. I shouldn't have done it," he admitted quietly as Matt snorted. Alfred glared at his brother, shaking his head.

"Oh come _on_ , Alfred," Matt said, exasperated.

"Looking around where?" Alfred asked, a spike of anxiety jolting through him. Arthur didn't answer, stealing a nervous look up at him before quickly looking back down again.

"I caught him rifling through your trunk," Matt answered for him.

Alfred's breath caught as he tried not to panic. Nobody knew about what was in there. His oldest and most complicated projects, trinkets he was just too embarrassed to show anyone, let alone a complete stranger--

"Did you see any of what was inside?" Alfred snapped suddenly, directing his gaze at Matt. His brother gaped at him, blinking.

"I...just a few things he had taken out," Matt stumbled, "Some of your...things you make, that's all. That and a few scraps of paper but...Alfred?" he asked worriedly as Alfred no doubt turned pale.

"It's all right, Matt, I gave Arthur permission to look at them," he lied as Matt stared at him in disbelief, "Isn't that right, Arthur?" he asked, stealing a look over at him. Arthur looked just as shocked as Matt, blinking at him in clear confusion.

"Alfred, you don't have to cover for him," Matt pointed out, "It's really--"

"It's _fine_ , Matt," Alfred growled, "Thank you for letting me know," he added half-heartedly as his brother slowly nodded, "Now, if you don't mind, I'd like a word with Arthur in private,"

Arthur looked genuinely fearful in that instant, gulping.

Matt looked at Alfred with an uncertain frown, then back to Arthur, before conceding and agreeing to take a stroll for a bit so that they could have their conversation. Alfred waited until he was certain his brother was out of earshot before speaking.

"Arthur," he began; the man physically flinched at being addressed, "Why did you go through my trunk?"

The other was quiet for a time, fiddling with the green beads he had turned into a bracelet.

"...I admire your artwork, Alfred," he said with a sigh, "And you mentioned that you had more, so I wanted to see them,"

Alfred almost leapt for joy at his trinkets being referred to as 'artwork,' but maintained his anger for the time being. He still didn't like his things being pored over.

"Well, Arthur, you should have asked. That trunk is where I keep things I don't want everyone to see," he pointed out.

"I apologize," Arthur muttered, eyes fixated on the bracelet.

They were both silent for a time, Alfred torn between berating him more due to sheer embarrassment and asking what he thought of his handiwork. Arthur made the decision for him.

"If it helps, everything you made is extraordinary," Arthur murmured, almost to himself.

"You're just saying that," Alfred laughed nervously.

"No, I'm not," Arthur insisted, finally turning those pretty green eyes onto him, "They're beautiful, Alfred. The craftsmanship is unlike any I have ever seen. Where did you learn to make things like those? And where did you find your materials?" he asked.

Alfred froze. This...was unexpected. Most of the time people were asking him what was the matter with him or why he didn't get a real job, not how he went about making things.

"Uh...well, I find them mostly out in the Moor," he admitted, frowning, "You don't think they're ugly?" he blurted.

Arthur looked horrified.

"Of course I don't," he said, "Weren't you listening?"

"Well yeah, I was, but it's the first time anyone has complimented me on any of them, that's all," he insisted with a weak laugh, "Everyone always says how ugly they are, that they're a waste of time...you know," Alfred trailed off with a shrug. Arthur shook his head, looking back down at his bracelet.

"They are most certainly not a waste of time," he concluded, "Nor are they ugly,"

"Did...you see the papers?" Alfred asked quietly.

"I did," Arthur answered softly.

Alfred's shoulders sank as he sighed tiredly. Those stupid parchments. Why he couldn't just tear the damn things up and burn them, he had no idea. He would just get these strange urges to draw as a child, sometimes even into his later years, but the sketches always turned out grotesque. He hated them. And he always found himself scribbling strange symbols, things he himself didn't recall drawing out until suddenly realizing that he held a quill between his fingers. Those papers frightened him at times, but he couldn't dispose of them. He had taken to throwing them into his trunk, hiding them amongst his other belongings until he could bring himself to destroy them all.

"Alfred--" Arthur began, but Alfred cut him off.

"I didn't want anybody seeing those," he stated firmly, "Ever,"

Arthur nodded slowly, looking down at the table as Alfred looked him over.

"What made you pull them out?" he blurted suddenly as Arthur looked up at him, "You never said you were looking for papers," he accused with a frown.

Arthur immediately turned his gaze down into his lap, unwilling to answer.

"I mean even if you saw one, why would you look through more of them?" Alfred asked as anger started to well up in him, "It's not like you can _read_ any of it, so why--?"

He stopped as Arthur physically flinched.

"...Arthur?" Alfred ventured, curious.

"What?" Arthur snapped, though he still refused to look at him. His hands were clasped tightly into fists, knuckles white in his lap.

"...what's the matter?" Alfred asked. Had he offended him? Scared him, perhaps? Why was he so jittery all of a sudden?

"I will be fine," Arthur answered curtly.

"But that's not what I asked," Alfred pressed, leaning forward on the table to examine Arthur more closely. If he was uncomfortable before, he was squirming now.

"You...can't actually read any of it, right?" Alfred asked reluctantly.

Arthur remained silent.

"Arthur, answer me," Alfred ordered as he licked his lips excitedly. It couldn't be.

"You answer me first," Arthur said quietly after a pause. He placed his hands on the table, lacing his fingers together neatly before looking Alfred square in the eye; Alfred gulped.

"O-okay," Alfred stammered.

"Did you write what was on those parchments?" Arthur asked pointedly. Alfred nodded stiffly as his heart hammered in his chest.

"Hm," he muttered with a nod.

"...so...can you read them?" Alfred pressed, clenching his fists anxiously.

"I never said that," Arthur answered as Alfred felt his jaw fall open.

"Wait...they...those are actually words?" he blurted excitedly as Arthur's eyes flicked over toward the doorway, "Hold on--you CAN read them, right?"

"You're _saying_ that I can," Arthur answered softly.

"You didn't answer my question," Alfred pointed out, "Arthur, can you read what those symbols say?"

Arthur, frustratingly, refused to respond.

"Arthur, please," Alfred begged as he drew a shaky breath, "I _need_ to know what they say. What it all means,"

"You can't decipher them? You just told me that _you_ wrote them in the first place," Arthur shot back, leveling Alfred with a deep emerald stare.

"I didn't realize that they were words," Alfred blurted, "I'd just, I dunno, start writing things down,"

Arthur looked over at him studiously, tilting his head in thought. It was all Alfred could do not to get up and scream at him, but he managed to stay silent.

"They appear quite old," Arthur said finally, "How long have you kept them for?"

"Years, I guess," Alfred shrugged, slightly irritated, "Now _what do they say_?"

Arthur paused briefly before answering, staring down at the table.

"There are no complete sentences," he stated curtly.

Alfred fought the urge to strangle him at that point.

"But what IS there says _something_ ," Alfred said flatly as he crossed his arms, "What do the words on the page say?"

Arthur fidgeted, looking longingly over at the front door.

"I'm waiting," Alfred stated as he drummed his fingers on his arm. It was infuriating, almost as if Arthur was looking for a way--any way, really--not to give him a straight answer. Yet he didn't outright lie, either.

"Arthur, I'm not going to have a bad opinion of you or anything if that's what you're worried about," he promised as the thought occurred to him. Perhaps this language was taboo, or was associated with types that weren't exactly of polite society? Perhaps Arthur was embarrassed?

To his surprise, Arthur laughed. A light, airy chuckle that made the tips of Alfred's ears red in spite of himself. Arthur shook his head, looking down at the table.

"I am afraid I do not understand as much as you assume," he said with a sigh.

"All right, that's it," Alfred snarled as he flung his hands into the air and stormed into his room. He threw open the lid of his trunk, frowning as it thudded against the wall, and grabbed one of the tattered parchments. He pivoted and dashed back into the dining room to discover Arthur glued to his seat, looking at Alfred with what could have been fear? It was difficult to discern.

Yup, definitely fear, Alfred decided as he slammed the paper down onto the table and jabbed his index finger at one of the crudely-drawn symbols. Arthur's eyes had gone wide, his mouth pressed into a thin, firm line.

"This," Alfred snapped as he slammed his finger into the parchment once more for good measure, "Tell me what THIS says,"

Arthur paused for a brief moment before responding, very quietly:

"Lonely,"

Alfred blinked and slowly took his seat. He wasn't quite sure what he had been expecting, but that hadn't been it. Arthur was studying him carefully, fair face contorted into a frown.

"...lonely?" Alfred repeated as he shook his head.

"Yes," Arthur responded, "That is the only word on this entire page,"

"Oh," Alfred squeaked as he fidgeted in his seat. He had been terribly lonesome as a child, if he was honest with himself. Matt was very popular among the children in the village, whereas Alfred was often left to his own devices. He just wasn't good at anything that they did, really, and...well, that meant a lot of time spent by himself.

"Were you...lonely, Alfred? When you wrote this?" Arthur asked cautiously.

"I mean, I was a kid then," Alfred laughed half-heartedly, "Kids say weird things, you know? I probably was just..." he trailed off and ran his hand through his hair, "...yeah. I was,"

A heavy silence fell between them for a time as Alfred's thoughts chased themselves.

"But...where is this language from? Where is it used?" Alfred asked suddenly, snapping his gaze onto Arthur once again. The other man shook his head.

"I am afraid I cannot tell you where it is used," Arthur admitted with a frown, "I have seen it a few times during my travels,"

"You've never been through a town or something where everyone uses these characters, though?" Alfred asked, nearly pleading. His heart sank as Arthur slowly shook his head.

"I am sorry, Alfred," he stated, "However...I do have a penchant for languages, picking up pieces here and there wherever I go,"

A few awkward moments passed, Alfred staring at the parchment in horror and Arthur staring at him in contemplation.

"Alfred," he said suddenly, causing Alfred to jump, "Tell me about what it was like for you growing up. Perhaps I could be of help somehow," he offered.

"How?" Alfred blurted.

"Well, I'm not sure, but perhaps it would help to have someone listen," he offered with a shrug, "I'm willing to hear your story if you're willing to share it. Perhaps I could help you understand where this...knowledge...came from," he added as he gestured toward the parchment.

Alfred paused, weighing his options. Arthur was hiding something from him, he could feel it. But if he was right, and he could provide some kind of insight as to why he had drawn these symbols...

_Lonely_.

Alfred jumped as the front door swung open. Matt looked from one surprised face to the other, frowning as he slowly closed the door behind him.

"...so...?" Matt asked awkwardly.

"We're fine, Matt," Alfred lied, "Everything is fine," he added as he rose to his feet, "Arthur and I are just going to go out for some fresh air,"

Arthur looked at him in surprise only briefly before standing, resting his weight on the table as he retrieved the walking stick from against the wall.

Matt looked unconvinced, arching an eyebrow and throwing a glare in Arthur's direction before disappearing into his bedroom. Alfred sighed, opening the front door and gesturing for Arthur to walk through.

Arthur looked at him briefly before slowly hobbling out into the night, clutching the walking stick in trembling hands.


	10. Ignited

Arthur's mind was racing.

That language was certainly not used by the Court, nor by any self-respecting Folk in polite society. He understood that untidy scrawl well, had studied it by day and in the light of enchanted flame by night. It was used by _them_ , the miserable creatures that had slaughtered his men and begun his downward spiral into ruin.

And if Alfred was writing in Unseelie runes, perhaps...he was aligned with them?

Arthur was determined to find out.

He carefully crept alongside Alfred, coming to a rest at the tree near Alfred's home.

"Would you sit?" Alfred asked quietly; Arthur complied, backing up against the tree trunk as Alfred took a seat beside him. The evening air was cool and damp, rushing past his face and ruffling his hair. The back of his hand stung angrily; the pain was always the worst around twilight.

Alfred drew a deep breath before turning toward him, expression stern in what little light the early night offered.

"All right," he sighed tiredly, "Where do we start?"

Arthur paused, thinking.

"When did you begin writing on those parchments?" he asked finally, carefully.

Alfred exhaled slowly before answering, shaking his head.

"I don't know, sometime when I was little," he sighed.

"Tell me about your childhood, then," Arthur nudged, feeling slightly irritated. What was he, a human? He didn't have time to sort out "feelings." Still, if it meant getting to bottom of this mess...

"Uh, well, I guess it was...fine," Alfred stumbled awkwardly, staring out across the Moor, "After mom died--"

"You mentioned that there had been an accident," Arthur interrupted.

"Yeah," Alfred gulped, "Yeah, there was,"

"And...?" Arthur pried.

Alfred looked to the heavens, tilting his head back as he ran his fingers through his hair. Arthur waited patiently for him to collect himself, picking at a strand of grass to keep himself occupied.

"All right," Alfred sighed, "So, when I was a child, I...I don't know, I was just messing around in the field. You know, hiding out in the grass?"

Arthur nodded, though he honestly didn't understand why Alfred wasted time on such a stupid thing. But then again, humans weren't exactly intelligent, were they?

"So I was hiding, and the villagers were clearing the field. One of the sickles hit me," he elaborated quietly, absently clasping his hand to his abdomen as he stared up at the sky, "I mean she couldn't see me, she didn't mean to. My mother...she was there when it happened," Alfred continued.

"And your injury...was it severe?" Arthur pried.

"Oh yeah, it was bad," Alfred stated with a half-hearted chuckle, "I almost...well I guess I almost died. Mom said it was a miracle that I pulled through,"

Arthur paused. A miracle indeed.

"So your mother saved you from dying?" Arthur asked, frowning. He was thankful that Alfred wouldn't be able to read his expression well in the dark.

"I...guess so, yeah," Alfred reasoned with a shrug, "She was the one who...uh, found me,"

"I see," Arthur stated dryly.

He _knew_ it. That woman had used Unseelie magic to save her son from death--if he even _was_ her son. But that didn't make sense. If that were the case, wouldn't Matthew exhibit the same wild pulse of magic upon contact that Alfred did? Arthur had made contact with him a few times, when he was handing Arthur food. Why did Alfred have strange energy and his brother did not, if they were born of the same wretched Unseelie womb?

Even so, Arthur reasoned with a scowl, he knew what came next.

"And...what after that?" Arthur asked as calmly as he could manage. Unseelie magic was never used without a price, usually a very steep one. No magic was.

Alfred rubbed at his eyes, still staring up at the sky.

"A year later, she passed away," he explained quietly, "That was when Fhinn and Leesy took Matt and I in. They had a son, but after he died, they welcomed us to live with them. Must've been lonely or something--uh," Alfred stammered, voice cracking on the word "lonely."

"And what of your father?" Arthur asked. "She passed away," indeed. More like abandoned them after she was afraid of being discovered for not being human. Probably fooled them into thinking she had died, using an enchanted decoy (or worse, a slain human disguised with Glamour) to trick them into believing that she had passed.

"He died right before Matt was born; I don't remember too much about him," Alfred admitted with a sigh.

"And, your parents were from...where?" Arthur asked, trying to be as meticulous as possible.

"Where were they from?" Alfred repeated, turning toward Arthur. He couldn't see well in the darkness, but he assumed that Alfred wore a confused expression.

"Yes," Arthur responded, "It's possible that you learned those runes from one of your parents when you were growing up, if they were from a different region,"

"Oh," Alfred conceded with a nod, "I guess that makes sense. They were both local; Mom was from this village, and Dad was from the next town over,"

"Hm," Arthur muttered, frowning. "From this village" could mean many things. Infiltration of a mortal village was not exactly difficult (Arthur had managed it without even trying), but it could have begun centuries before. Once inbreeding began, the tainted magic of the Unseelie could remain within the human bloodline for many, many generations. That had been one of his assigned tasks--to study (and assist in the eradication of) said bloodlines, many years ago.

Interesting. Very interesting indeed.

"...where were your parents from, Arthur?" Alfred asked suddenly.

"I thought we came out here to talk about _you_ , Alfred," he snapped.

"Well, yeah, but...I'm just wondering," Alfred pressed.

"I don't know," Arthur answered with a heavy sigh, "I never knew them,"

"Not at all?" Alfred breathed, apparently flabbergasted, "You don't even know their names?"

"No," Arthur answered curtly, folding his arms over his chest and turning away. It was true; children of the Folk hardly ever knew from whom they had been conceived, though with some it was easier to tell than others. Arthur had always fancied that his emerald eyes were from Eilidh, one of the elders of the Court. That wasn't her real name, of course, but she did possess vibrant green eyes like his. She didn't explain his flaxen hair, though; Eilidh's hair was a vibrant, shimmering silver. He would never know for certain who his parents were, especially not now.

He frowned, rubbing the back of his hand as it burned harshly.

"Are they...alive?" Alfred pressed.

"I have no idea," Arthur muttered, "Now can we please go back to--?"

"So where is 'home' for you, then?" Alfred asked.

Arthur paused. Honestly, at this point...?

"Wherever I roam, I suppose," he reasoned with a shrug.

"Arthur," Alfred said sternly, causing Arthur to turn and look at him. Why was his tone so different all of a sudden? Cold, almost.

Could he have figured him out?

No. Impossible.

...right?

He cleared his throat before responding, heart leaping into his mouth.

"...yes?" he squeaked.

"Are you a gypsy?" Alfred asked frankly, adding a "what's so funny?" as Arthur burst into laughter. All of his worry for nothing, clearly.

"No, no, I am not a gypsy," Arthur answered honestly.

"So you're just a merchant, then, selling things," Alfred deduced with a tilt of his head.

Arthur said nothing, choosing to turn and look out into the night instead.

"So they abandoned you after you were born, then?" Alfred continued (rather rudely, in Arthur's opinion), "I don't mean to pry, but...I mean, I'm an orphan too, so maybe I can help--"

"I don't need help," Arthur snapped.

Silence ensued for several moments as Arthur stubbornly looked out in front of him. He refused to meet Alfred's gaze, to accept pity from a mortal...if that was even what Alfred was.

But that was the disturbing part--Arthur should have sensed his Folk lineage immediately, no matter how minute the contribution in the lad's blood. It was almost as if it was...hidden. Dormant. Perhaps Alfred was using Glamour to disguise himself? It just wasn't possible for it to be hidden intentionally, not with how difficult maintaining a believable Glamour would be, especially to fool the eyes of another one of the Folk.

There truly was no way for anyone to disguise it completely, considering the immense concentration required to sustain a Glamour for long periods. But some were very skilled at it, Arthur had to admit, and the only way to detect magic in them would only be in--

"Alfred," he blurted as the idea suddenly came to him, "Does your mother have a grave?"

A morbid question, but entirely necessary. One couldn't maintain a Glamour in death, and the influence of magic would be imprinted onto the host after death if a decoy had indeed been used. If Alfred's "mother" truly had used a human corpse to falsify her own death, Arthur would sense it immediately, that telltale twinge of magic that never quite left one of the Unseelie's victims. And if that was an Unseelie corpse in the ground, he would sense that, too. All he needed was to get closer.

"W-well yeah, of course she does," Alfred stumbled.

"Where?" Arthur asked.

Alfred was silent for a moment, his silhouette looking down at the ground.

"Right here," Alfred said quietly.

Arthur frowned, looking around in the dim twilight for any sign of a tombstone. Wasn't that how humans honored their dead? By marking their resting places with rocks?

"We were going to use a stone, but then Matt and I thought it would be nicer to plant a tree," Alfred explained softly, "That way...you know, she would live again, I guess. Fhinn helped us plant it,"

"So...your mother is buried right beneath us," Arthur reasoned as his intrigue intensified. There was no pulse of magic here. None. No trace of Unseelie manipulation, of any sort of dark and perverse influence that might have--

"That's right," Alfred said with a sigh, "It's a nice tree, isn't it? I brought it in from out on the Moor. I thought it was pretty, and...anyway, that's why Matt and I built the house here. To be close to her,"

"I see," Arthur answered absently, mind racing. If what he was saying was true, Alfred's mother was human. But...how? Perhaps the father?

"And...your father?" Arthur pried.

"...he was cremated," Alfred answered, "Tradition from his village, I guess,"

"Typical," Arthur snarled.

"What?" Alfred asked.

"Nothing important," he responded. Leave it to one of _them_ to request cremation after death. Of course. Any hope Arthur had of sensing any magic within that one had been lost, mere dust on the wind.

"...Arthur?" Alfred peeped after a few moments of silence.

"Yes?" Arthur responded.

"...do you think...? No, never mind," he stumbled, shaking his head.

"Do I think what?" Arthur pressed, frowning thoughtfully. Perhaps there was something Alfred had left out?

"I just...no, it's stupid. Never mind," he insisted as he stood up and stretched, "We should probably call it a night, it's getting late,"

"...yes, I suppose so," Arthur conceded, though he wasn't entirely convinced that whatever Alfred was going to say was "stupid."

They both entered the darkened house, Alfred closing the door softly.

"I think Matt's already gone to bed," Alfred whispered.

"Well, you are welcome to spend the night with me," Arthur offered slyly. He grinned as the young man tripped over his own feet, obviously rattled, "It's really not a problem at all, Alfred,"

No, not at all. Arthur was practically salivating at the prospect of tapping into that power of his.

"N-no that's okay," Alfred insisted with a nervous chuckle, "I wouldn't want to bother you--"

"At the risk of waking your brother, though?" Arthur asked, tilting his head just so.

"I-It'll be fine! D-don't worry! Goodnight!" Alfred hissed as he practically ran into his brother's room.

Arthur scowled at their bedroom door briefly before hobbling into Alfred's room. He sighed, collapsing onto the bed and setting his walking stick onto the floor beside it.

Who, or _what_ , precisely, was he living with?

* * *

"Mint?" he whispered into the darkness, eyes darting around to watch for his little friend. Surely she would have some information for him by now.

He smiled as a green glow materialized in front of him, followed by several others.

"Hello, my friends," he greeted as they buzzed around him excitedly. He had journeyed a ways from the humans' home, near a small structure which he assumed was a storage building of some kind. He didn't want to risk Alfred wandering out and finding him outside again; the last incident had been a close call.

"Oh you do, do you?" Arthur teased as Mint chirped excitedly that she had information for him, "Well, go on, tell me,"

He frowned as she gave her report, the others nodding or chattering excitedly.

"I see," Arthur stated with a frown, leaning back on his arms and looking up into the night sky, "Well, he certainly moves quickly, doesn't he?" he said flatly, his mouth contorting into a snarl.

"So he was the one who turned me in," Arthur deduced as Mint buzzed around him, chattering angrily, "Doesn't surprise me, really. I figured as much. And of course he made it all look like _my_ doing, yes?"

One of the rose-colored spirits nodded sadly, floating forward and stroking his cheek with tiny fingers. Arthur sighed; how could he have been so stupid? The plan had been so _simple_...maybe that's why he hadn't been able to see through it.

_"We simply have to outsmart them, Darling," Francis reassured him as he stroked his hair. Arthur pushed further into his touch, smiling lazily, "It should not be a difficult task, especially with your expertise in dealing with the members of the Court,"_

_"Still--" Arthur protested, but was cut short by a slim finger pressing against his lips. Outside of their cave, the ocean roared._

_"The Unseelie are unpredictable; we must be even more so. Not even our own should be able to discern our motives," Francis explained, "They simply require an opening, and they will be more than happy to launch an attack. Not even the Queen can stand up to that kind of power, not if the conditions are right,"_

_"Yes, but how will we manage to get them to negotiate?" Arthur asked as he gently pushed his lover's hand away, "They aren't exactly friendly,"_

_"Leave that to me, Darling," Francis said with a laugh, "All I need is for you to do your part. You understand your task, right?" he pressed._

_"Of course I do," Arthur snapped, "I've already confirmed the locations of the guards, their rotations--"_

_"Good!" Francis praised as he pecked him on the cheek, "Good. That's an excellent start, my Love,"_

_"I honestly don't know how I'll manage the rest, though," Arthur admitted with a frown, "Convincing the entire Court to go above ground...?"_

_"All we need is one night, Darling," Francis encouraged, "Just get the Queen to agree to journey above ground for one night, and everything will be ours,"_

Arthur snorted. A lot of good that did. He had spent many nights concocting the perfect plan, leaving Francis to negotiate with the dreaded Unseelie. They had the skill necessary to defeat the Queen, if she was unprotected. If above ground, she would be heavily guarded, but as for the realm of the Court? Why, that would be left to only the few sentries Arthur had meticulously taken notes on. He knew their schedules, the brief times when the Queen's chamber would be left unattended. It would be the perfect time for the Unseelie to infiltrate, to attack the Queen upon reentry, and to pave the way for the two of them to take over.

Oh, what an idiot he had been.

He had proposed for the Queen to come to the surface in celebration of his military success, under the guise of presenting his latest spoils from Unseelie territory. He had seduced the Court with promises of gemstones and glittering treasures, of spells and runes long forgotten by their Clan and returned, rightfully so, to the Queen who so dutifully protected her people and their shared heritage. The Queen had said she needed time to consider it, to put her preparations into place.

That was when he had been called forward, the night of Beltane.

The night he had been exiled.

"Is that what he said?" Arthur snapped as Mint elaborated on her tale. Mint nodded glumly, looking down at the ground.

"Unbelievable," he sighed, running a hand through his hair in dismay. Francis had already "warned" the Queen that treachery was afoot in the Court, told her to watch for anyone trying to convince her to journey out of the safety of her realm underground...

It hurt.

_"We can do this, together. We shall rule over the Court, you and I,"_

It _hurt_.

_"I love you, Arthur,"_

"I'll _kill_ him," Arthur swore, pounding his fist into the ground, "I'll watch the light leave his eyes," he growled as the spirits around him enthusiastically cheered him on.

"What is Francis up to now?" he asked angrily. What he wouldn't give to wrap his hands around that monster's throat--

_"I love you, too,"_

Arthur growled lowly as Mint explained. Francis had been promoted by the Queen, of course, as some kind of hero. He had ascended to the position of advisor to her, one of her direct reports.

Arthur gnashed his teeth; that had been HIS honor. Francis had _stolen it from him_. Destroyed his life and then taken his place, as if he had never even existed.

And what was worse was that it was his own fault. He had trusted him, throwing open the floodgates to his own destruction...

What a fool he was.

"Keep an eye on him, Mint," he ordered, "I need locations. I need to know where he's heading, where he's been staying--anything and everything you can tell me is vital. I need--"

He froze as a shambling noise caught his attention.

Someone was running directly toward him, shrouded by darkness.

He gasped and crawled behind the building, dragging his walking stick with him as he pressed against the wall, heart hammering in his chest. Mint and the others had winked out of sight, not wanting to risk being spotted. Behind him, the figure dashed into the building and closed the door.

He gulped, trying to calm his erratic heart.

Was that...Alfred?

* * *

"Alfred,"

Alfred opened his eyes. He was looking up at a twilit sky, mottled reds and fiery oranges mixed with midnight blue. He sat up, disturbing the flowers upon which he had been laying. It was a balmy summer evening, with a warm breeze that ruffled his hair. Dark, wispy clouds moved lazily overhead, slowly changing shape.

"Alfred,"

"Who's there?" Alfred called as he looked around. The meadow was empty, his only answer the gentle bob of wildflowers in the evening wind.

He jumped as fingertips lightly touched his shoulder, whirling around with a surprised yelp.

"Did I startle you?" Arthur asked with a small smile, "Apologies,"

"Uh..." Alfred managed as Arthur's porcelain white hands cupped his face. He smiled, emerald eyes twinkling with a mischief that went straight between Alfred's thighs.

"Lovely evening, is it not?" Arthur asked quietly as he drew nearer. Alfred gulped nervously, heart pounding as Arthur brought their lips together. Oh, gods, yes.

Alfred tangled his fingers into Arthur's hair, drawing him down onto the ground with him, daring to move his hands along Arthur's back. He was all lean muscle beneath the thin fabric of his shirt, no doubt pale and beautiful and--

"Allow me," Arthur purred into his ear as he sat up and shimmied out of his shirt. Alfred could hardly believe what was happening, Arthur straddling his waist with his hands pressed onto Alfred's chest. He smirked down at him, tilting his head _just_ so.

It was maddening. He felt as if he was going to burst.

"Arthur," Alfred breathed, gulping, "W-what now?"

Arthur laughed, that breathy chuckle Alfred had grown to love, as he leaned down and kissed Alfred on the lips.

"Whatever you want, Alfred," he murmured as they separated, running his hands through Alfred's bangs.

Alfred rolled on top of him with a grunt, panting with anticipation as Arthur seductively, luxuriously, spread out underneath him among the wildflowers, half-lidded green eyes twinkling as he grinned up at him. He was beautiful, a pale blossom unfurling on the dark field as Alfred hurriedly unclothed both of them. He loomed over Arthur, gulping nervously as he struggled to breathe. This was happening.

This was HAPPENING.

"Oh _yes_ , Alfred," Arthur breathed a moment later, fingernails digging into Alfred's shoulders as he eagerly rocked into him, "Yes..."

It was incredible. The heat, the bolts of intense _feeling_ coursing through him, Arthur's glassy green eyes watching his every motion--

"Faster, Alfred," Arthur pleaded with a low moan, " _Please_ ,"

Alfred happily complied, drinking in Arthur's praise.

"Alfred," he panted, "Alfred, wake up,"

"...what?" Alfred gasped as he sped up. He was close. He couldn't stop now. Not now, when his pleasure was about to peak.

"Wake up, Alfred," Arthur stated flatly...but that wasn't his voice, was it?

He abruptly froze as Arthur and the meadow disappeared.

"ALFRED, WAKE THE FUCK UP!"

* * *

Alfred's eyes sprang open as he flailed about wildly, entangling himself in the bedsheets.

"Finally!" Matt shouted from where he stood beside the bed, arms folded across his chest, "Took bloody forever to wake you up!"

"...huh?" Alfred managed stupidly. The throbbing between his legs was unbearable, searing and hot and very much in need of attention.

"Don't give me that," Matt snapped, face flushed in anger, "Just...ugh," he faltered, clapping a hand to his forehead, "Just...go take care of yourself, would you?" he managed, gesturing toward the doorway with one hand and covering his eyes with the other.

Alfred felt his entire body turn red.

"Oh," Alfred blurted, "Oh, gods, Matt, I'm sorry--"

"We'll talk after, all right?" Matt said as he shook his head, "Just...you know,"

"R-right," Alfred stammered as he leapt out of bed and ran outside. He hastily made his way out to the tool shed a short distance from their home, thankful that it was before dawn. Hopefully he wouldn't be seen by anybody in this state.

He threw the lock and closed the door behind him, leaning heavily against the wall as he panted for breath. Gods, what was wrong with him?

* * *

Arthur panted heavily from where he was hidden behind the wall of the shelter, heart pounding. He had just barely missed being seen--what in the world Alfred was doing running out into the field in the middle of the night was beyond him.

Mint whispered something to him, sounding panicked.

"Yes, Mint, I think that's a good idea," he murmured as he grabbed his walking stick and hurried back toward the house. She was right; it would be best for him to be safely tucked into bed when Alfred returned.

* * *

Moments later, Alfred stood in silence as his pleasure quickly ebbed away into shame. His poor brother. What had he said? What had he _done_?

"Idiot," he scolded himself as he shook his head. It wasn't his fault, though. He couldn't help what he dreamed about, right?

He ventured outside and drew water up from their well, washing up and thoroughly splashing his face. As much as he dreaded going back inside of the house, he knew that he had to.

Mustering what little of his dignity he had left, Alfred headed back inside.

* * *

"Matt, I'm so sorry," he stated as he stepped back into Matt's bedroom.

"Don't worry about it, Alfred," his brother insisted with a shrug. He was fully dressed, obviously unable to go back to sleep after the events of the early morning.

"What did I do?" Alfred blurted before he could stop himself.

"You didn't do it on purpose," Matt reasoned, "Don't worry about it,"

"...Matt, I kind of need to know," Alfred insisted. Oh _no_ , what if he had said Arthur's name?!

His brother sighed, shaking his head.

"Nothing," he stated, "You just made a racket and tried to grab me, ya fuckin' lunatic,"

"...that's it?" Alfred blurted, relieved.

"Well that's bad enough, thank you very much," Matt snapped.

"I, uh...sorry," Alfred mumbled, "Really,"

"It's no big deal, Alfred," Matt said with a shrug, "We're only human, after all,"

Alfred frowned, looking down at the floor. While he was grateful that his brother was so understanding, Matt certainly had no reason to try and shame Alfred in this situation. Alfred had covered for his brother plenty of times over the years when he would feel the urge to run off with one of the village girls. Really, it had been a pain. He was glad that Irunya had captured his attention as of late; it meant he could stay out of any and all situations with girls Matt found himself in, which suited him just fine. Just because Alfred had...how did it go? "Bloomed late?" Yes that was it-just because he was a "late bloomer" wasn't an excuse to give him hell for something he couldn't control. He just hadn't been interested in anyone before now, really.

That didn't mean he wasn't embarrassed, though. How humiliating.

"So, did you figure out what he was trying to steal?" Matt asked suddenly, causing Alfred to look up. His brother was lacing up his boots, preparing to head to work for the day.

"He wasn't stealing anything, Matt," Alfred insisted hotly, "He just wanted to look at more of my...stuff,"

"To steal it and hawk it for something," Matt stated with an arched brow, frowning at him, "Alfred, you are far too trusting. I don't like thieves living in my house,"

"Well it's my house, too," Alfred grumbled.

Matt sighed, shaking his head.

"I know it is, Alfred," he said tiredly, "I just don't want you being taken advantage of,"

"By Arthur?" Alfred snorted, "Yeah, Matt, I'm terribly concerned about a crippled little thing like him. Shaking in my boots, even,"

"You know what I'm talking about. I don't like him," Matt stated firmly.

"Yeah and why is that, exactly?" Alfred demanded as he leaned on the doorframe, "You've hated him from the moment I brought him home,"

"I never said I _hated_ him," Matt pointed out, looking down at the floor as Alfred leveled him with a glare, "I just...don't you think he's strange?"

"Why? Because he likes me? Because he actually wants to talk to me?" Alfred demanded.

"Oh, Alfred, come on--" Matt said, exasperated.

"No, _you_ come on," Alfred hissed, "Do you know the number of times that I've been told that something's wrong with me? That I'm odd?"

"Alfred--"

"You don't get it, Matt," he blurted angrily, "Everybody likes you. All of the villagers look at you and say 'you know what? That there's a great guy. What a model citizen, putting up with his idiot brother who isn't good for anything,'"

"Alfred, that's not true," Matt insisted quietly.

"It _is_ true," Alfred stated curtly, "You've just been too busy being popular to notice,"

Matt blinked at him, obviously hurt.

"Arthur takes the time to listen to me. And my trinkets? You know, the ones that are a complete waste of time? He calls them artwork, Matt. _Artwork_ ," Alfred continued, breathing deeply to calm himself.

Matt nodded slowly.

"So if you don't like him? Fine. But I do. And I will not have you scaring off somebody who gives a damn about me just because you decide you don't care for him. We understand each other?" Alfred said firmly, pushing off of the doorframe and stepping into the kitchen.

"I'm sorry, Alfred," Matt said softly as he nodded, "I had no idea,"

Alfred nodded, turning and heading for the front door.

"Good," he grunted, throwing the door open, "Now if you'll _excuse me_ , I have a hunting trip to get ready for,"

He didn't wait for his brother's response as he closed the door behind him.

* * *

Notes: I have no idea what I'm doing. -_-

Eilidh translates to "light" or "Helen," and is pronounced Ellie.


	11. Fire

Arthur didn't see much of Alfred or his brother for the entire morning, but he had overheard their rather heated conversation earlier that morning. He had certainly been correct in his assumption that there was competition between the two humans, but he hadn't been aware of it being this severe. Alfred behaved as though Matthew had no idea of the rift he (according to Alfred) had deepened, separating him from the other villagers like some kind of outsider.

More importantly, he thought to himself as he shifted from where he was perched under the tree in the front yard, Alfred had admitted that he trusted him. This would work to Arthur's advantage, certainly, but he wasn't quite sure why. Was it simply due to Alfred's infatuation with him? It wasn't as if Arthur cared. Sure, he was interested in Alfred's stories, but only to gather information.

He looked up as footsteps approached, expecting it be Alfred.

Matthew met his gaze instead, hesitantly approaching with his hands in his pockets.

"Good afternoon," he greeted softly; Arthur just stared at him.

"Look, um..." he stumbled, sighing, "Can I sit here for a moment? I, um...need to talk to you,"

"Oh?" Arthur quipped. He was in no mood for this one, especially now. He positively reeked, the bitter stench of iron permeating the air around him whenever he returned from work, "Have you come to accuse me of stealing something else? Perhaps you left something out in your accusations from yesterday. By all means, go on," he added flatly, wrinkling his nose.

Matthew stopped dead, turning and facing the house as he took a deep breath. It occurred to Arthur that he was offending the human, but after yesterday? He was fortunate that Arthur had been kind. When he regained his full strength, however, he might not be so inclined.

"Arthur, I'm sorry," Matthew breathed, barely audible.

"Hm?" Arthur asked obnoxiously, tilting his head, "What was that, Matthew?"

Matthew sighed, turning and facing Arthur with a nervous frown.

"I said I'm sorry," he stated, "It was wrong of me to accuse you like that,"

Arthur fought the urge to smirk, settling for nodding his head slowly instead. Best not to push it too far at this point, though the victory was deliciously sweet.

"Very well," he conceded, cracking his knuckles and fully expecting the human to be on his merry way. However, Matthew stood still, looking down at the ground thoughtfully.

Several uncomfortable moments passed before he spoke again.

"Alfred seems to like you," he stated as he folded his arms over his chest, "I'm not one to interfere, but...anyway, just be nice to him. Please. He's...having a rough time right now,"

Arthur normally had an excellent way with words, a refined understanding of when to hold his tongue. It had served him well in the Court, made him trustworthy.

Today, however, that skill seemed to have deserted him completely.

"Well it appears that he is having a 'rough time' because of you," Arthur snapped before he could stop himself.

Matthew looked as shocked as Arthur felt, eyes wide and mouth agape as he stared at him.

Well, there was really point in stopping now.

"Must you ridicule him so?" Arthur asked quietly, trying to soften the cutting edge to his voice, "The lad seems to think he has no right to be _alive_ because of the way this village has been treating him,"

"I don't ridicule him!" Matthew insisted, desperation ringing loud and clear in his voice.

"Well, referring to his artwork as a waste of time would be considered ridicule, don't you agree?" Arthur reasoned with a slight tilt of his head, "Considering that you of all people know how much they mean to him, how much time he puts into them. That might even be considered, by some standards, _cruel_ ," he stated coldly. It was almost laughable, for one of his own to make such a statement. However, it had the stinging effect Arthur had been looking for.

Matthew remained silent for a time, and for a brief instant Arthur felt a pang of fear that he might retaliate. He clutched tightly onto his walking stick; he could brandish it as a weapon if need be. He'd crack that damned human right over the skull and be out of this village if he even so much as made a fist.

"I...I had no idea," Matthew said softly, shaking his head as he looked down at the ground, "I mean, I thought it was a joke at first. They're just dirty old stones and things, and--"

"You're joking," Arthur stated flatly, quirking an eyebrow, "Surely you can see--"

He stopped himself, eyes flicking down to the bracelet on his wrist. He paused, taking in the entrancing array of emeralds and dazzling hues of greens he lacked words to describe. 'Dirty old stones,' he had said. 'Dirty old stones...'

Arthur had been mistaken. Matthew and the other humans hadn't been simply ridiculing Alfred for his handiwork, been taunting and mocking the beauty in each and every elaborate trinket.

It wasn't that they couldn't appreciate the pristine beauty in his designs.

They simply couldn't see it.

To them, they looked like dirt-covered stones, dull and gray and lifeless. Boring. Unassuming.

 _Perfectly disguised_.

"...how important they are to him?" Matthew finished for him in a meek, timid voice. Arthur blinked at him for a moment through the haze of his frantic thoughts.

"Sure," Arthur conceded with a half-hearted wave of his hand. A thrill of excitement was building in his chest; it was all he could do to sit still and listen to the human prattle on.

Glamour. The stones were disguised with _Glamour_. Arthur had always seen them as they were, brilliant stones in all manner of colors and hues that were cloaked from the sight of mortals, lest they hoard them all for themselves and mar the beauty of the domain of the Fae. Such treasures were not meant for mortal eyes.

But Alfred could see them for what they truly were. Moreover, he could _find_ them.

"But how?" he murmured as he shook his head.

"...how what?" Matthew inquired with a frown.

"Ah, never mind," Arthur dismissed.

"Well, at any rate...thanks," Matthew said quietly, "I really didn't realize how bad things had gotten with Alfred and all. I...I've got a lot to think over," he murmured.

"Yes you do," Arthur snapped as he moved to stand up, "Now get to it,"

Matthew hesitated only briefly before scampering off, to where Arthur didn't care. He had finally had a revelation, been able to shed some semblance of light onto this decidedly obscure situation.

He leaned on his walking stick and drew a deep breath.

There was much to consider.

* * *

Alfred knocked on the door to Fhinn and Leesy's home, shifting nervously from one foot to the other. The village elder wouldn't be home, seeing as he had work to attend to out in the fields, but there was a chance that Leesy was inside. She usually had knitting or darning or whatever it was called--

"Oh, hello, Alfred!" she greeted as she opened the door and embraced him, "All ready for yer hunting trip?"

"Not quite yet...can I come in?" he asked awkwardly, stealing a look over his shoulder.

"Of course," she answered, throwing him a suspicious look, "So what brings you here? It's been a while since you've come to visit me in my home. You could come more often, you know," she added with a raised brow.

"I know, I'm sorry," he mumbled as Leesy gestured for him to have a seat. The kitchen was precisely as he remembered, filled with hanging pots of herbs that dangled over the wooden tabletop. A few hung beside the fireplace, drooping elegantly onto the gray cobblestones. He pulled out one of the old, sturdy wooden chairs and took a seat. Even after moving into his own place with his brother years ago, it appeared as though nothing had changed in the house where he had grown up.

"Would you care for some tea, Alfred? I just made a pot," she said as she poured him a cup anyway without waiting for a response.

"...thanks," he mumbled as she placed the tea in front of him and took the seat beside him, "I, uh...Leesy, I wanted to talk to you about something,"

"Go on, dear, I'm listening," she encouraged as she took a sip from her cup.

"All right," Alfred sighed, staring into his tea, "Leesy...you know how I was kind of, you know, an odd child?"

"You are _not_ odd, Alfred," she insisted firmly.

"Well, I'm certainly different," Alfred mumbled, sneaking a look up at her worried expression, "I mean, most children don't spend most of their time in the Moor," he added with a frown.

Leesy inhaled deeply and leaned back in her seat, collecting her thoughts; Alfred could tell she was choosing her words carefully. If only her husband did the same.

"I think you fancied the Moor because you like to explore," she said finally, smiling at him as she laced her spindly fingers around her teacup, "You've always been an adventurous child in that respect,"

"Yeah," he agreed half-heartedly, looking down into his tea again, "But, uh...did I...ever pick up languages? Like, did I know other ones when I was younger?"

"Oh you made up your own for a while," Leesy laughed, "It was precious. You would write these stories on little scraps of parchment in your own silly language--"

"What?" Alfred blurted, staring at her with wide eyes.

"Well it was only a phase, Alfred. They were nonsense words, scribbles. You stopped all of that when you were fairly young," Leesy reassured him as she took another sip of tea.

Alfred gulped, managing a weak smile as his mind raced. Truth was, he hadn't stopped those "nonsense scribbles" when he was a child at all; he had just gotten better at hiding them, stashing them into the dark corners of his trunk or burying them out in the Moor.

"And you're absolutely certain that it wasn't a real language," Alfred emphasized, mouth dry.

Leesy tilted her head at him as she set her cup back onto the table, frowning.

"Where did all of this come from, Alfred?" she asked softly, those sharp blue eyes of hers looking right through him, "You seem very upset,"

"I'm not upset," Alfred lied as he took a drink of his tea. It was strong and fragrant, flooding his senses with cloves and rose hips, "I just was wondering, that's all," he added as he stood up.

"You're leaving already?" Leesy squeaked, getting to her feet, "But you just got here!" she lamented as she frowned at him.

"Well I have a lot to do before the hunt..." Alfred trailed off as he inched his way toward the front door, "Thanks, Leesy! I appreciate it!" he added as he turned the handle and opened the door.

"Alfred," she said sternly, stopping him in his tracks. He turned around and looked sheepishly at her, biting his lip.

She crossed the distance between them and took his hands into hers, staring up at him intently. For a brief moment he was baffled by how short she was. He didn't recall being that much taller than her. Then again, it had been some time since they had stood so close.

"No matter what anyone says, no matter what anyone thinks," she said with a firm squeeze of his hands, "there is _nothing_ wrong with you. You are not odd, or strange, or whatever wicked things those idiots might tell you. You are a kind, wonderful man, Alfred. Don't you dare let anyone make you believe otherwise,"

Alfred nodded stiffly, his throat suddenly very tight.

"And besides," she added as she smiled and released her grip, "No matter what happens, you will _always_ be my son,"

"Thank you, Leesy," Alfred breathed.

"Now you go and do what you have to do for that hunting trip," Leesy instructed as she leaned on the doorway.

Alfred turned and headed down the walkway, mind racing. So Leesy had seen the symbols he had written, but couldn't decipher them. Otherwise she wouldn't have dismissed them as a childish phase. Part of him wanted to believe her, to put this behind him and just accept that he would never quite fit into life in his village. But it would be all right, because he had Arthur. Arthur listened to him, shared his love of creating gem-studded works of art from the Moor.

But.

If it wasn't an actual language, how was it that Arthur could read it?

"HEY!" a voice shouted at him from up the path. Gil was racing toward him, waving and clutching a bag in his other hand.

"Hey, Gil!" he called as he waved back.

"Been lookin' for you!" Gil said as he raced over to him, "Listen; I got a few things together, but I was hoping Matt could help you out with gettin' our knives sharpened. Mine's a little dull," he admitted with a shrug, gesturing toward the bag in his hand.

"Sure, I'll take them over to him," Alfred agreed as he took the bag and slung it over his shoulder; the metal tools within clanked loudly.

"Great! Thanks," Gil said with a grin, stretching, "Man, I can't wait. I'm so excited,"

"Same," Alfred lied, "Say, I wanted to thank you for doing those chores for me yesterday. Really helped me out,"

"No prob!" Gil reassured him as he clapped a hand on his shoulder, "Glad I could help out," he added, shoving his hands into his pockets, "So...any news on Irunya?"

"Huh?" Alfred asked.

"You know...so she could stay with Matt so he wouldn't have to watch out for Arthur by himself?" Gil pried, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Oh. That," Alfred blundered, "I completely forgot," he admitted with a sigh.

"Don't worry about it, I'll ask her," Gil offered (rather quickly, Alfred thought), puffing out his chest. Alfred raised an eyebrow at him, folding his arms and awaiting an explanation.

"What?" Gil demanded. Alfred didn't even need to open his mouth before his friend threw his hands up in surrender, "Ugh, _fine_ ," he snarled, "Elizabeth's going to be with Irunya today. So...you know, I figured I'd stop in, say hello..."

Alfred burst out laughing as Gil berated him about how this was NOT FUNNY, but soon was off on his merry way. Alfred watched him only briefly before heading toward the blacksmith shop. Matt ought to be there by now; he should be able to spare a few moments to sharpen knives for him.

* * *

"Oh, Alfred!" Gowan greeted him as he walked into the shop, "Haven't seen ya in a while! How've ya been? How's yer friend, there? The, uh, the blonde one,"

"Hey, Gowan. Arthur's doing well, thanks," Alfred answered as he stepped forward and looked around. The interior of the smithy was dark, the stones tinged with black soot above the irons where the men worked. It was fairly small, considering how important it was for the survival of the village, but it was sufficient. The iron in the far corner of the room where Matt usually worked was vacant, obscured by the flickering flames of the forge.

"Lookin' for yer brother?" Gowan asked as he took something sharp and red-hot with a pair of tongs and thrust it into a bucket of water. Steam erupted from it with a loud hiss, billowing upward into Gowan's large brown eyes. He blinked it away, setting the tongs down and absently scratching at his rather unkempt beard.

"Yeah, actually, I was hoping that he could sharpen a few things for the hunt," Alfred explained as Gowan nodded.

"He left a bit ago to get something to eat, I think," he said as he gestured for Alfred to hand the bag of weapons to him, "I can do it for ya, though. Won't take me too long,"

"Thanks," Alfred said gratefully, "I'll come back in a while," he promised as he waved and headed for the door.

"All right, see ya soon!" Gowan called as Alfred stepped back outside.

"All done!" Gowan announced as Alfred returned toward the end of the day. He was exhausted, having completed his chores and made preparations for the hunt. He had pretty much everything that he needed (he hoped), save for retrieving the weapons. Matt still wasn't in the shop, but Alfred guessed he would be home by now. Hopefully he and Arthur hadn't killed each other yet.

"Thanks, Gowan," he said as something glinting leaning against the wall caught his eye. Some kind of spear, with wicked-looking metal jutting out of a sturdy wooden pole. It gave the impression of a battleaxe, but crowned with the sharp, glinting tip of a blade.

"Like it?" Gowan asked as he handed Alfred the satchel filled with sharpened knives.

"It's great," Alfred said, awestruck.

"Go on, pick it up," Gowan laughed, gesturing for him to investigate further. Alfred barely heard him, caught up in reverently hefting the spear into his hands. The handle was finely carved, etched with notches for ease of grip. The blade itself was inlaid with bold obsidian lines that crept over the iron like ivy.

"I'm kinda proud of that one," Gowan said with a crooked grin, leaning against the wall, "Was goin' fer somethin' kinda different, I guess," he reasoned with a shrug, "Even the wood fer the handle's different; got it off an old, gnarly thing on the edge of the forest, big ol' Rowan tree. Thing was already half-dead, figured I'd give it another chance to be something great, ya know?"

"It's amazing, Gowan," Alfred stated, balancing the weapon on his hand, "Who's it for?" he added, half-regretting it. Someone important, most likely, like Fhinn or something.

"You," Gowan said.

"...huh?" Alfred blurted, blinking at him.

"Well you are going on a hunt tomorrow, aren'tcha?" Gowan said slyly, shrugging dramatically, "It might as well be put to some good use. No sense in it gatherin' dust in here,"

"You're joking," Alfred stated, raising an eyebrow, "Gowan, there's no way I can afford something like this," he admitted, leaning the spear back against the wall.

"Hey hey what're you doin'?" Gowan demanded, scowling at him, "Yer puttin' it back? You sayin' it isn't good enough for ya?"

"W-what? No!" Alfred insisted, squirming under his gaze, "I was just--"

"Go on 'n' take it, then," Gowan pressed, nodding at him, "You can bring it back after the hunt if you really _want_ to," he added.

Alfred hesitated, staring into the man's eyes for a moment before slowly nodding.

"All right," he conceded as he took the spear into his hands once again; his heart soared with excitement, "But I am bringing it back to you immediately after the hunt. All right?" he emphasized.

"Fine," Gowan said with a nod, reaching out and shaking Alfred's hand, "Have a good trip, then. Bring me back an elk 'er somethin', will ya?" he added with a grin.

"I'll see what I can do," Alfred answered, grinning back.

* * *

Matt was waiting for him, seated on the hill outside of their home.

"Alfred, do you have a moment?" he asked as he stood up, "I wanted t--whoa, nice," he trailed off as he looked over the spear in his brother's hands, "You bought it? I was wondering who was going to end up with that thing,"

"Nah, Gowan's letting me borrow it, I guess. He wouldn't let me put it back," Alfred explained with a shrug, "Where's Arthur?" he asked, looking around.

"Inside," Matt answered, scratching the back of his head nervously, "But, um, I just wanted to apologize," he blurted, "I've been a real...uh..."

"Ass?" Alfred offered with a raised eyebrow.

"...yeah," Matt sighed, shaking his head, "I just wanted to clear the air a bit, here. I _am_ sorry. And I, uh...I apologized to Arthur as well, so..." he trailed off, shoving his hands into his pockets.

Alfred nodded, clapping a hand on his brother's shoulder.

"You had dinner yet?" he asked.

"Not yet," Matt answered as he followed him into the house.

* * *

Arthur looked up from his seat at the table as the two humans entered.

"Alf--" he stopped dead, blanched, and shrunk back from the abhorrent, monstrous _thing_ in Alfred's hands. Curved and horrible-looking, it glinted at him menacingly. It looked more like some kind of torture device than anything else, and of _course_ it was made of iron and some kind of accursed plant whose presence made him feel ill.

"Hey, Arthur!" he greeted with a bright grin as he brought that horrible thing forward, "Take a look at--whoa," he trailed off as Arthur lunged out of his seat, nearly knocking the chair over in the process. He clutched onto the table, wild-eyed. He dug his fingernails into the polished wood, flinching as Alfred set the abomination onto the table. Why was he bringing it _inside_?

"What is THAT for?" he demanded, lurching away from the table crossing his arms over his chest. He absently thought to himself that the humans must think he was a madman, but instinct was instinct. The stench of iron filled his nostrils, made his heart race as the burn on the back of his hand pulsed angrily. A sort of haze, a taint to the air rose from the dreaded thing's wooden staff, making him gag. He backed up and pressed against the wall, eyeing the weapon suspiciously as the two mortals stared at him.

"Whoa, whoa, Arthur, it's all right," Alfred soothed as he set the weapon down and cautiously approached, "It's just for the hunting trip,"

Arthur allowed the human to set his hands on his (unfortunately, clothed) shoulders, looking warily into his eyes. What kind of fool brought something like that into the house? It was clear now, however, that he obviously meant him no harm by it.

"...I see," Arthur conceded, breathing through his nose to calm his erratic heartbeat, "Apologies, then," he mumbled as Alfred worriedly looked him over.

"I'm sorry, Arthur, I didn't mean to frighten you," Alfred apologized as he turned toward his brother. Matthew was watching from across the table, eyes wide, "Hey, Matt? Would you mind bringing this thing outside?"

"...sure," Matthew answered as he slowly nodded.

Arthur waited until the door closed behind him before speaking, drawing a breath of relief as the unease and stink of iron slowly ebbed away.

"I was not expecting that," he stated after a moment with a displeased frown.

"You have a problem with weapons, then?" Alfred asked worriedly.

"I don't like _that_ one," Arthur stated flatly.

Alfred shifted from one foot to the other, obviously uncomfortable, but Arthur didn't really care. If he had been stupid enough to bring not only iron but Rowan into his presence, he deserved every bit of discomfort coming to him. What sort of fool didn't understand the properties of such things? The implications?

Still, though, he couldn't alienate Alfred if he intended on feeding tonight.

"Arthur, I'm really sorry--" Alfred blurted, but Arthur silenced him by pressing a finger to his lips. Ah, there it was: that delightful pulse of power he had been waiting for. It surged through his fingertip and down his arm as Alfred shuddered.

"Don't fret," Arthur soothed as he combed his fingers through Alfred's wheat-blonde bangs. The lad looked positively mystified, blinking at him and licking his lips in anticipation. Arthur grinned slyly, moving forward ever so slowly to press their lips togeth--

"I put it in the shed, Alfred," Matthew announced as he threw the front door open, "It's on the left, right in the front so you should be able to find it tomorrow before dawn,"

Arthur scowled as Alfred practically fell away from him, thanking his brother and clumsily rushing over to the fireplace to help prepare the meal for the evening. He slumped into a seat beside the table, drumming his fingers on the tabletop in irritation. He had mere hours before Alfred would disappear into the wilderness, and he was not going to waste them.

* * *

His chance arrived shortly after the meal was concluded. Matthew said he had to go into the village, something about needing to speak with Irunya, leaving Alfred and Arthur alone in the house.

_Finally._

"So, do you think everything is prepared for tomorrow?" Arthur asked sweetly as he batted his eyelashes at him.

"Uh y-yeah!" Alfred stammered, blushing a little, "Yeah, I think we're all set,"

"Good," Arthur said softly, reaching over and placing his hand over Alfred's on the tabletop. A jolt of energy passed between them, slowly crossing over into Arthur's hand. Alfred flinched, but didn't pull his hand away; Arthur smirked.

"Although," he sighed, taking advantage of Alfred being flustered and lacing their fingers together. He paused, taking a moment to savor the power flowing through him.

Amazing. Otherworldly. _Perfect_.

"I will miss you while you are away," he added slyly. It wasn't a lie, after all.

"I-I'll miss you too," Alfred stammered, his cheeks now a lovely rose color, "But, um," he cleared his throat and slid his hand out from beneath Arthur's, "I need to talk to you about something,"

Arthur had to fight the urge to leap across the table and pin the fool down, but he had to be patient. Trust was key.

"Very well," he said smoothly, folding his hands on top of the table and smiling at him, "About what?"

"I went to see Leesy today," he said slowly, staring down at the table, "She thinks that language is something that I made up when I was a kid. You know, like a phase,"

"Children do things like that," Arthur pointed out with a shrug and wishing Alfred would stop wasting his valuable time. He had energy to drain.

He was taken aback by Alfred's sharp stare at that point, blue and piercing. He shuddered, instinctively drawing his hands into his lap.

"But _you_ can read it," Alfred stated firmly, stare unflinching.

Arthur gulped.

"Leesy's been around for a long time. She's lived here for most of her life, and being the elder's wife has met with leaders from the surrounding villages," Alfred continued (rather astutely, Arthur noted. Too astutely. Far too intelligently).

He paused, drawing a breath and tilting his head at Arthur inquisitively.

"If Leesy didn't recognize that script, it can't be from any of the villages around here," Alfred deduced (correctly).

Arthur squirmed a little in his seat, frowning.

"You say you're from someplace by the ocean, right?" Alfred continued as Arthur slowly nodded, "Leesy's family is from a village by the sea," he pointed out.

Arthur felt the blood drain from his face. Damn it.

"Well there are many settlements along the coast, Alfred," he reasoned, trying to worm his way out of this with as little damage to Alfred's trust as possible, "And I'm certain they all have different tongues and scripts,"

"...I suppose so," Alfred agreed after a moment's pause, "I just don't understand how I came to know it," he trailed off, finally breaking that unnerving gaze and staring down at the table again, "It just doesn't make any sense,"

Arthur bit his lip, silently relieved that Alfred hadn't pursued the issue further. It was more difficult than usual to avoid questions from this one. He spotted half-truths in conversations much more quickly than most of his kind.

"Well, Alfred, I--" Arthur stopped as the front door abruptly swung open. A silver-haired young man stepped inside, eyes wild.

"Gil?" Alfred blurted as he stood up, "What're you--?"

"I need your help," Gil interrupted, "I, uh...just come with me for a bit?" he added, eyeing Arthur nervously; Arthur simply glared at him.

"Uh, sure," Alfred agreed, turning back to Arthur apologetically, "I'll be back soon, all right?"

"Of course," Arthur stated flatly.

He watched the two of them leave, cursing under his breath. How dare he just leave him like that, in the middle of a conversation?

No. He was not going to relinquish what little time he had.

* * *

Alfred stared at the gaping hole in the barn door, lit by the lanterns the pair of them carried. He looked at Gil, who shrugged.

"Guess somethin' spooked her?" he offered sheepishly as Alfred burst into laughter.

"Oh this is _great_ ," Alfred teased, clapping his hand onto Gil's shoulder, "This is how you prepare for a hunting trip, eh? Just bust down the goddamn door to the barn so everything can get out. Nicely done,"

"Oh come on!" Gil retorted as he hung his lantern on a hook, "It's not _that_ big. I don't know what happened! I was all done with my chores when Blayre started getting upset and then BAM! She busted a hole in the door," he lamented, throwing his hands into the air.

Alfred snickered.

"Just help me, okay?" Gil sighed, exasperated.

"Fine, fine," Alfred laughed, "Let's see if we can patch it up for now,"

* * *

Arthur paused to rest his ankle for a moment, leaning on his walking stick as he pursued Alfred and his friend. They had entered a large structure up the hill a ways, which Arthur assumed was to house animals for the village. He frowned, looking up at the sky and cursing his situation. What was he doing? A powerful military commander, reduced to hobbling about pathetically in pursuit of a human, of all things.

It would have been hilarious, was the situation not his own.

He continued walking, looking down as something green caught his eye. It darted past him, ducking into a shrub beside the road.

"Mint?" he whispered, looking around to make sure he had not been followed, "Mint, is that you?

She peeked out from behind a leaf, twittering at him feverishly.

"No, nobody else has seen you," he reassured her, "What are you doing here? You're far too close to the humans," he warned, "Why were you in there?"

"Really?" he said flatly as Mint sheepishly explained herself, "I like cream as much as the next Fae, but I wouldn't be foolish enough to sneak into a human village to get it. And what does you being on your way to see me have to do with it? I didn't tell you to steal cream," he teased as she tried to blame her situation on him.

He chuckled as Mint flailed her tiny arms in agitation.

"All right, all right," he conceded as he shook his head, "So just the animals, then?"

Mint fluttered her wings worriedly.

"Well, a mule isn't going to tell the humans about you," he snorted as Mint chirped at how she had managed to frighten one of the animals in the stable.

"Now, what was it that you wanted to tell me?" he asked.

He frowned, taking in her answer as he nodded.

"I see," he said, frowning thoughtfully, "So Francis is pretending to be at war with the Unseelie even as he plots with them. Disgusting," he spat, leaning on his staff, "But why is he heading toward the forest, though? There aren't any Unseelie settlements there. Those Fae belong to our clan," he muttered.

He paled as Mint elaborated.

"He wouldn't," he breathed as rage filled him, "He wouldn't _dare_ ,"

But he would. Francis was no fool.

The forest Fae were a quiet lot, mostly kept to themselves. They had been living in peace for centuries, their pact with the Queen stating that it was their duty to oversee the streams running through their territories, ensuring that fresh water trickled down to the home of the Seelie. Francis would need a diversion--a huge one--in order to distract the Court enough for him to carry out his plan to destroy the Queen.

And what better way than to make it appear as though the pristine waters of the forest were tainted by the Unseelie?

"I've got to stop him," he blurted as he limped his way over to the barn where Alfred had gone. Mint shouted something at him, but he couldn't make it out. He didn't have much time, and he couldn't run fast enough in this state to make a difference. He needed to be faster, in better health.

And Alfred was going to help him.

* * *

"Well this ought to be fine for a few days," Alfred reasoned as he positioned a slab of wood over the hole in the door, "We can always come back to it after we come home,"

"Sure, fine, whatever," Gil grunted irritably, "Let's just get this shit done,"

Alfred frowned, resting his hand on the splintered hole in the barn door.

"Gil--" he started, then jumped as someone grabbed his hand through the door on the opposite side. He gasped, electricity sparking from Arthur's fingertips making him shiver. What _was_ that?

"Alfred, I need to talk to you," Arthur's voice stated, "Immediately,"

"I, uh..." he stammered dumbly as Gil erupted into a laughing fit.

"Oh well would you look at this!" Gil exclaimed as Arthur let go of his hand and pried open the barn door. He arched an eyebrow at Gil, obviously confused. Meanwhile, Alfred felt his face reddening.

"Shut up, Gil," he warned.

"What, and not announce that you're married?" Gil laughed, embracing him as he sighed dramatically, "Oh, Alfred, I never thought I'd see the day!"

"Shut UP, Gil," Alfred snapped, shoving him off of him.

"Married?" Arthur asked, tilting his head, "What does he mean, Alfred?"

Alfred couldn't answer, mouth dry.

"Oh you didn't know?!" Gil guffawed, "That makes this even BETTER!" he declared as he slapped his knees gleefully.

"...what?" Arthur asked, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

"Well, Arthur, you and my little friend Alfred here are now happily wed!" Gil announced, wiping a fake tear from his eye.

Alfred bit his lip nervously as Arthur's face deteriorated into an expression of sheer horror. Red blossomed out onto his pale cheeks and onto the tips of his ears as he fussed with the hem of his (Matt's, actually) shirt. It was terribly cute, but Alfred tabled that thought for the time being. Arthur looked agitated, unsure, for the first time since Alfred had met him. He was obviously flustered.

"I...what?" he blurted, "That's ridiculous,"

"Well you're the one who went and married him, so I don't know why you're--" Gil insisted.

"I did no such thing," Arthur snapped as he scowled at him.

At this point, Alfred had a choice. He could explain to Arthur that no, they were not married, because such customs were not observed at any other time than Lughnasadh. Or...

"Actually, you did," Alfred lied with a nervous laugh, "Grabbing my hand through the door like that? Yeah, that's how we get married where I'm from,"

He should have felt miserable for lying to him, but he simply couldn't. Gil deteriorated into a giggle fit, leaning onto the barn wall for support.

Arthur's eyes widened, round and perfect like glittering jewels as he gaped at Alfred.

"W-well I had to get your attention _some_ how, you fool," Arthur snapped.

"Well, you certainly did," Alfred conceded with a sigh, "We just need to finish fixing this door and then--"

"What?" Gil blurted with a laugh as he shoved Alfred outside, "No no, I am not one to ruin your wedding night, my friend. I'll finish up with the door,"

Alfred felt his ears joining his face in turning scarlet as he looked over at Arthur. The man looked positively terrified, wide eyes darting around in panic.

"Have fun, you two!" Gil laughed, shutting the door and slamming the wooden plank over the hole with a lecherous wink.

* * *

Arthur was completely silent on the trek back to the house. It wasn't a great distance at all, but it felt like miles. Alfred couldn't quite manage to make eye contact with him, embarrassment getting the better of him each time he tried. He waited until they were outside of his home to attempt making conversation.

"...so..." Alfred trailed off. Arthur looked up at him, then quickly back down at the ground again.

Alfred frowned. The guilt was starting to creep up on him; he had to come clean.

He sighed, looking down at the ground.

"Arthur, listen--"

He was abruptly cut off by Arthur stepping forward and bringing their lips together. Just like in his dream, only _real_. His arms wrapped around Arthur before he could stop himself, taking it all in for as long as Arthur would allow. He felt as if he was on fire, heat pulsing through him as Arthur pressed against him. He broke the kiss, leaving Alfred breathless and elated and more than just a little guilty.

"Arthur--" he croaked.

"Since we are married," Arthur thought aloud, interrupting him, "We...share a bed, yes?" he added quietly.

Alfred felt his jaw fall open. Gods, what he wouldn't give to let that happen. But he _couldn't_ , not when he was lying to him. Arthur would never allow that if he didn't think he had accidentally gone and gotten married, would he?

"Uh--" he stammered.

"To sleep?" Arthur pressed, "I understand that you have to rise early for your trip. I imagine that you would want to go to sleep early?"

Alfred stood frozen, fighting the urge to pinch himself.

"...what--?" he managed before Arthur took his hand and tugged.

"Come on, it's cold out here," he hissed. Alfred shuddered; it was, all of a sudden. He hadn't noticed it before, though.

He nodded, following Arthur into the house.

* * *

Arthur snuggled closer to Alfred as he slept, drinking in as much sweet energy as possible. He was elated at how simple it had been, having needed only throw a fistful of Glamour out to chill the air a bit to coax Alfred into coming inside with him. Mere child's play. He laced his fingers into Alfred's, pulling more of that energy as he sighed contentedly.

The human had fallen unconscious rather quickly, Arthur having siphoned off most of the energy he had to spare during the kiss outside. But he could still maintain a trickle, the tiniest flows of power, if he kept their palms together.

Alfred mumbled something in his sleep, shifting uncomfortably and tugging at his shirt.

Arthur reluctantly let go of his hand, not wishing to draw so much as to cause him harm. He settled for what he had gathered instead, taking in Alfred's warmth and closing his eyes. He would need to wait until Alfred was safely gone, until Matthew and the other villagers wouldn't notice, and then he could leave. He only had a short time to catch up with Francis before it was too late.

Alfred shifted and wrapped his arms around him, pinning him. Arthur swore under his breath, cursing humans and their idiotic marriage ceremonies. Reaching through a door? Seriously?

Still, he figured as he felt himself growing warm and sleepy, the current situation wasn't entirely bad. He needed only to wait one more day.

* * *

Notes: The Fae are very sensitive to iron. It is poisonous to them, and has been cited in folklore as having the power to ward them off or cause them physical injury or to become sick. Rowan trees were considered sacred, and were believed to have the power to ward off the Fae. Too bad Alfred doesn't realize why Arthur is so upset by it...

A note on Faerie organization: the Seelie Fae are seen as the "good" faeries. They typically are helpful to humans and aren't looking to cause them harm. The Unseelie, on the other hand, are the more malevolent Fae which humans are wise to avoid if possible. However, no Faerie is strictly "good" or "bad." Some of the tricks of the Fae are quite sadistic and cruel, and could cause a human a great deal of harm without ill intent.

Lughnasadh is a Pagan festival in which the young ladies of the village would stand behind a wooden door with a hole in it, and place their hands through the hole. The young men would then select a hand and the two of them would be married. It was a trial marriage, which, if it didn't work out after a year and a day, they could go their separate ways with no repercussions. This was held in the fall, during the harvest season. Unfortunately, our dear Arthur doesn't know about this custom. Whoops.


	12. Blaze

"Good luck, Alfred," Arthur said with a smile as he walked Alfred to the door. He was barely using his walking stick, only tapping it onto the floor a few times as he went to at least keep up appearances. Alfred, on the other hand, looked positively exhausted. Arthur had tried not to take too much from him the night before, but he had to be able to manage at least a jogging pace if he was going to try and stop Francis.

"Hey, look at you," Alfred said with a crooked grin, "You're movin' around pretty good,"

"Yes, well, I've had excellent care," Arthur murmured with a shy smile. He was leaving anyway, it didn't matter what the human thought of him, but somehow he didn't want to part on bad terms. Besides, watching Alfred's face turn pink was quite amusing to him.

The phrase had the intended effect as pale red blossomed out onto the apples of Alfred's cheeks. Funny, how those blue eyes lit up whenever he smiled like that.

"Well I like having you around, ya know," Alfred mumbled, embarrassed. He pulled the front door open and stepped outside, slinging his belongings over his shoulder and turning back toward Arthur. It was still dark, being just a few hours before dawn, but Alfred and his group were determined to get an early start to set up camp in the wilderness.

"I'll see you soon," Alfred promised, "And when I get back I'll play the pipes for you again!" he added cheerily, leaning down. Arthur hesitated for the briefest of moments before returning the gesture, pressing their lips together for what would be the final time. As he had expected, nothing passed between them this time, no spark or jolt of that wonderful power. Arthur had been correct in his approximations; had he taken more, Alfred could have been very ill this morning. That would have put a severe damper on his plans.

"That sounds lovely," he murmured, leaning against the doorframe, "Are you not going to say goodbye to Matthew?" he asked.

"Wake Matt up?" Alfred laughed, "Yeah, right. He sleeps like the dead. Besides, he'll be up soon enough anyway for work," he reasoned with a shrug, the items in his pack clanking together loudly. A few moments passed in silence, Alfred looking down at Arthur uncertainly.

"You'd best get going," Arthur advised with a smile, "Or they might leave without you,"

"R-right," Alfred agreed with a nod, "I'll be back real soon!" he promised as he waved and ran outside.

"Indeed," Arthur muttered after a pause, watching Alfred's silhouette disappear into the darkness.

He drew a deep breath, looking up at the sky. A few stars stubbornly remained, glittering at him tenaciously. He would need to wait for Alfred to be out of sight; it would be safer to wait until nightfall the following day. But if he left now, he might be able to catch Francis off guard.

He softly closed the door behind him and stepped into the cool morning air, clutching the walking stick Alfred had hewn for him in trembling hands.

He didn't have time to waste.

"Mint," he hissed as he lumbered into the darkness. He breathed a sigh of relief as he was surrounded by flickers of colored flame, a bright green one at the forefront.

"Thank you," he whispered, "Now let's go,"

* * *

"Soooo?" Gil leered at him as Alfred joined the group, "How'd it go last night, huh?"

"Shut up, Gil," Alfred snapped, shaking his head. Gods, he was exhausted. He had slept last night and all. Why was he so damned tired?

"Oh wait! Let me guess...hmm..." Gil whispered dramatically as he brought a hand to his chin in the lantern light bobbing above them, "You totally chickened out, right? He was all into making hot, sweaty marriage-bed love and you backed out like a lame ass,"

Gil cackled obnoxiously while Alfred went rigid. He prayed his friend didn't notice how close to the truth he had actually gotten. Arthur had been...very willing to share a bed with him, especially after their "marriage." He gulped; he hadn't actually apologized to Arthur for that. He hadn't had a chance to set the record straight, not with Arthur being so sweet and saying goodbye to him at the door like that.

When he got back from the hunt, that was the first thing he had to sort out. Absolutely.

Maybe.

"...Alfred?" Gil asked worriedly, waving a hand in front of his face.

"What?" Alfred grunted.

"You all right? You kinda...I don't know, looked...weird," Gil said with a shrug, "Listen, I was just joking. You know that," he said pointedly.

"...yeah," Alfred said half-heartedly.

Gil opened his mouth to continue, but was cut off by Fhinn. Barely visible in the dim lantern lights, he towered over the hunting party with folded arms.

"All right, listen up," he boomed, "Niall here'll be leadin' us into the woods to set up camp. We're going to set up a rendezvous point. From there, you lot'll split into groups and begin tracking. We'll meet back at sundown. Got it?"

After a murmured chorus of "yes, Sir"s, they were on their way. Alfred walked in back of the group with Gil, who had gone uncharacteristically silent. There were at least eight of them going hunting, based upon what Alfred could tell in the darkness.

"Alfred, you know I'm just kidding about the marriage thing," Gil said quietly after a while.

"Yeah, I know," Alfred sighed. What he wouldn't give to run back there and tell Arthur the truth, to look into those green eyes and kiss those lips again...assuming Arthur would let him, after lying to him like an imbecile.

"...maybe I _shouldn't_ be joking about this," Gil said after a pause, "Alfred, you're not...do you... _like_ him?" he asked breathlessly, as if he couldn't believe what he was insinuating.

"Of course I like him," Alfred snapped, defenses up, "He's a nice person and he listens to me,"

"That's not what I meant," Gil pressed.

Alfred sped up his pace, leaving Gil to trail behind.

"Hey," Gil hissed, yanking on his shoulder to halt him.

"What?" Alfred huffed. The last thing he needed was to be made fun of for this. He had no control over how he felt. Hell, he wasn't even quite sure what it was that he was feeling.

His friend looked him over worriedly, frowning.

"Hey, Alfred, if you... _like_ him like that, it's all right," Gil reassured him with a nod, "There's nothing wrong with that, at least not to me," he added hurriedly.

"W-what?" Alfred blurted, flabbergasted. He had been expecting another sarcastic jab, not this. This was...beyond strange.

"I had a feeling something was going on between the two of you," Gil said with a soft smile, "And I'm glad for you. Really,"

Alfred wanted to protest, to berate him for accusing him of such a thing, but he just couldn't. He couldn't, because Gil was absolutely right. The realization washed over him like a tidal wave, overwhelming him.

"Oh gods," he muttered as his heart leapt into his mouth.

"Don't worry, I won't tell anyone," Gil reassured him.

"N-no, that's not...nothing's 'going on' between us, not like you think," Alfred whispered hurriedly, "I just..." he trailed off with a shrug.

"Like him?" Gil guessed.

"Yeah," Alfred breathed, running his hand through his bangs, "I guess it's just weird hearing it, you know?"

"Yeah, that makes sense," Gil said with a nod, "And your secret's safe with me, " he added with a smile.

"Thanks," Alfred choked, smiling weakly.

"Hey!" Fhinn's voice hissed at them through the darkness, "You two comin' or what?"

"Yes, Sir!" Gil and Alfred blurted, dashing to catch up to the rest of the group.

* * *

Alfred was truly in his element when he was out in the wilderness. The cool, early morning breeze rushed past him as he dashed between the trees. The ground was soft beneath his feet, covered in a fine carpet of pine needles and damp soil. The trees were dense here, providing excellent cover for animals during the night.

"Alfred, wait!" Gil hissed from somewhere behind him. Alfred just laughed as he sped up, drawing a deep breath of pine scent and morning dew. He halted in front of a glen between a rather thick stand of trees to investigate, Gil's wheezing quickly approaching from behind him.

He crouched down, noting how the soft blades of grass were bowed down. There was a musky scent to the air, intermingled with pine.

"What's--goin' on?" Gil panted as he caught up, hands on his knees.

"This is where they were bedded down last night," Alfred concluded, "Told you they'd be here,"

"How the hell--did you know that?" Gil exclaimed between huffs, "The whole goddamn forest--and you knew the elk would be--right over here?" he blurted, haphazardly throwing his arm out toward the glen.

"Told you I was good at tracking," Alfred laughed with a shrug, "If we're fast, we'll have time to set up for when they come out of the woods to feed,"

"Fast?" Gil blurted as Alfred took off running again, "Damn it, Alfred, WAIT!"

* * *

Day one of the hunt had been fairly successful, in Alfred's opinion. He had managed to map out the area and found several places where the party's intended quarry had recently been. Fhinn had been very pleased with his report, nodding slowly as a smile had crept over his square face. Alfred hadn't seen that look directed at him very many times...it made him happier than he cared to admit to see it now in the glow of the fire at their camp.

They had settled in a glen by the creek, in a series of hastily-erected tents clustered a few paces back from the campfire. None of them had managed to kill anything as of yet, so they were feasting upon the rations they had brought with them.

"Nice work, Alfred!" Niall praised as he sat beside him on the ground next to the fire, "We'll be bringin' an elk in before we know it!"

"Thanks," Alfred murmured as he bit into his portion of salted meat he had selected for his evening meal. The other members of the hunting party voiced their agreement, nodding at him approvingly.

"Say, Alfred, where'dja get that from?" Colin asked, gesturing to the wicked-looking spear resting on the tree behind where Alfred was sitting.

"Yeah, looks like somethin' you'd use to take out a fuckin' bear," one of the other men Alfred couldn't make out in the shadows commented.

"Or a goddamn demon," Gil pointed out as he nudged Alfred with his elbow; Alfred nudged him back with a snort.

"There aren't any _demons_ out here, asshole," Kayne stated flatly as he brushed his black bangs from his eyes and walked over toward his tent.

"Oh, I don't know about that..." Fhinn said wryly as he shook his head.

"...what?" Gil blurted.

"You'd be a fool t' think that we're the only ones out here," Fhinn said quietly. Alfred frowned at how serious his expression was, how stern he appeared in the glow of the flames as he looked from one face to the next.

Everyone went completely silent, the crackling of the fire and occasional cricket the only sounds in the small glen.

"There're all kinds of Folk in these parts," Fhinn continued, eyes glittering in the firelight, "Some more dangerous than others, if you're careful,"

Alfred squirmed in his seat; something about the look in Fhinn's eyes whenever he discussed The Folk unnerved him. It was like a fire had been lit, flashing dangerously behind icy blue irises. He shuddered involuntarily, chewing on his lip.

"We're in the forest...that's where a lot of 'em like to hide," Fhinn's voice rumbled through the silence, "All kinds of 'em in these parts,"

"Pray that you never find the Banshee," he continued, leaning forward dramatically, "She stalks the night with eyes of blood red 'n' gnarled gray hair...the gaze from those eyes are enough t' kill a man on the spot," he paused, making sure his audience was still listening, "But you'll hear 'er before ya see 'er, ya will. Loud and piercing, shrieking t' warn of impending death--"

"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"

Alfred leapt from his seat with a strangled yell, dinner askew as a horrific scream erupted from behind him. Gil swore and joined him as both of them darted forward and whirled around. And they weren't the only ones. The entire group on the right side of the campfire was on its feet, in varying states of surprise and anger. Gil immediately acted in favor of the latter.

"FUCK YOU!" Gil roared as Kayne burst into laughter from behind them, slapping his knees. Fhinn, Niall, and the other hunters on the other side of the fire joined him, laughing uproariously.

"You shoulda seen the lot of you fuckin' jump!" Kayne declared between guffaws, "Like a buncha goddamn sheep!"

"Fuck you, Kayne," Gil muttered as the group reluctantly returned to their seats, "Fhinn, even if there _were_ Folk out here, we're not bothering 'em, so why should they bother us?" Gil insisted as he threw a glare at Kayne as he sat down across from him.

"Ah, but who's to say they're after _us_?" Niall asked with an unnerving smile that made Alfred's skin crawl, "Some Folk have particular prey in mind, you know,"

"Like what?" Alfred heard himself ask anxiously as his stomach lurched. He hated it when conversations turned to The Folk. It unnerved him to think that there were creatures of ill will creeping around in the darkness around him. The fact that they were in the middle of a forest miles from civilization only added to his anxiety...well, that and the memory of those strange floating lights from the night that he had found Arthur.

His unease heightened as Niall grinned, crooked teeth glinting in the firelight as he stood and stretched.

"Depends on their mood...and if they're hungry or not," Niall hissed as he began to slowly pace around the fire.

"All right, out with it," Colin snapped; Alfred was glad he wasn't the only one who was on edge.

Niall chuckled lowly, walking up to the campfire.

"You lads are about the right age..." he mused, taking a stick and poking at the fire. Fragments of smoldering wood erupted into the air with a sharp crackle, returning to the tendrils of orange and yellow soundlessly.

"Probably got your eyes on a _girl_ , I'll wager, the lot of ya," Niall said with a shrug; Alfred was grateful for the darkness at that point, lest the others see the color in his cheeks. No, not a _girl_ , but...yes?

"And?" Gil demanded flatly.

" _And_ if you were wise, you lot'd be mindful of...the Gancanagh," Niall said with a wicked smirk as he returned to his place beside Fhinn.

"The what?" Gil asked flatly, tilting his head.

"The Gancanagh is one of the most deadly, conniving creatures out there," Niall continued mysteriously, "He finds a girl, you see, one that strikes his fancy. Then he'll disguise himself as the man of her dreams, wait for her to notice him while he's lazin' around, smokin' a pipe,"

Alfred blinked. Rather than horrified, he was fascinated. One of the Folk that could change its appearance at will, based solely on what his intended victims considered "attractive?" Fhinn had never told him this tale, not that he could recall.

"And when she does?" Niall added, taking a moment for a dramatic pause, "He approaches her, seduces her...and leaves her,"

"Asshole," Gil muttered under his breath, folding his arms over his chest.

"But that's not the worst part," Niall stated darkly, shaking his head as he looked from one captivated face to another, "Somethin' about the touch of the Gancanagh drives a woman mad. Can't live without 'im, after that one fateful encounter, you see. So she pines over 'im, only to have 'im never return. They go mad, they don't eat...and then they _die_ ," he added with a hiss.

Alfred's fascination quickly deteriorated into anxiety again at that.

"But still, other Folk prefer...children," Niall continued darkly, "Some of 'em will take babes from their cradles, swap 'em out for a Folk child who'll grow into a monster--a _Changeling_. They'll raise the human babe as their own...when they don't _eat them_ inst--"

" _Enough_ , Niall," Fhinn said gruffly as he rose from his seat. Alfred remained rooted to the spot, noting the familiar bite to his tone to indicate that he was angry. It was very slight, but definitely present. It didn't go unnoticed by the others, based upon the heavy silence that fell.

"Right," Niall grunted after a pause as joined him in standing.

"The lads will need some goddamn sleep if they're gonna take down an elk tomorrow," Fhinn reasoned flatly, "G'night," he added, gesturing for everyone to get into their tents for the evening as he stalked over toward his own.

"The hell was _that_ about?" Gil whispered to Alfred as they crawled into their shared tent, "I thought Fhinn was gonna knock Niall out or something,"

"I don't know," Alfred admitted as he snuggled into the blanket he had brought with him, "But he definitely wasn't happy,"

"Fhinn talks about Folk all of the time, though, and I've never heard of that...whatever it was," Gil reasoned as he wrapped himself into his own blanket.

"Gancanagh," Alfred corrected, the name easily rolling off of his tongue.

"Right, that," Gil said with a yawn.

Alfred frowned as he watched the light of the fire die out from the thin canvas of his tent as someone doused it outside. While the Gancanagh tale was decidedly obscure, that wasn't what had made Fhinn angry. He had gotten irritable after the mention of Folk taking children and--

"Hey," Gil whispered suddenly.

"Yeah?" Alfred whispered back.

"You think...Elizabeth's smart enough not to fall for that...thing, right? The Gancanagh?" Gil asked, voice laced with worry.

"I'm sure she is, Gil," Alfred reassured him as he rolled over onto his back.

"Yeah..." Gil said quietly, "Yeah, she definitely is,"

Alfred was going to comment on how he didn't sound very confident, but was too absorbed in his own thoughts. Why had Fhinn gotten upset over talking about the Folk? It hadn't bothered him in the past. He and Matt had grown up hearing all about the Anwyn and Selkies, of the dreaded Red Caps and mischievous Leprechauns...but none of the tales ever had to do with the abduction and...consumption...of children. Well, Fhinn would threaten to leave him and his brother out in the Moor at night so the Folk could punish them if they had misbehaved on occasion, but never like the story Niall had woven around the campfire. And of course he had heard of Changelings before, but the assumption was that the human child would be raised as one of the Folk.

"Strange," he mumbled as he closed his eyes. He had forgotten how exhausted he had been at the beginning of the day, after saying goodbye to Arthur. Maybe Arthur had picked up obscure tales from his travels as a merchant. He'd have to ask him when he returned to the village.

Only a few more days. A few more days, and then he would see Arthur again.

A small smile crept across his face as sleep took him.

* * *

Arthur leaned heavily against one of the trees as damp, pine-scented forest air filled his aching lungs. Even with Alfred's added energy, he was still not at his full strength. It had been three days since he had left the village, yet there was not even a sign of any of the Folk. Something was off, horribly wrong, but he had to lie low until he knew what it was.

"Yes, I know," he whispered as Mint chirped feverishly at him, "I _know_ , but I can't stop to sleep. For all we know, Francis could already be here,"

"I know, that's what I don't understand," he agreed as Mint's friend pointed out that there should have been contact with one of the forest Folk by now, "But they've always been reclusive, remember? They'd rather hide than fight," he added with a frown.

Indeed. They hadn't done him many favors during his days as a general, cowering in their burrows rather than coming out and defending their own territory. True, it had been partially Arthur's doing that the fight had spilled over onto their lands, but still.

He crept across the soft bed of pine needles, sharp eyes peering into the dim light. It was nearing dawn, and the forest was covered in a sheer cloak of silvery fog. The cool dampness clung to him as he pushed through it, illuminated here and there in the pale pastel colors of his companions. He squinted as a pleasant burbling met his ears; he was approaching the bed of a brook, flowing gently and innocently through the forest and down toward the home of his ancestors. He sniffed, breathing a sigh of relief when no taint of Unseelie poison met his nostrils. There was still time.

He stopped suddenly as movement caught his eye. A flicker, the faintest movement of something darting along the smooth rocks jutting from the water. The fluttering reappeared after a moment's pause, the palest shade of blue glinting from ethereal, pearly white.

"I have a message for you," he said lowly in the Old Tongue as he took a tentative step forward.

The movement ahead of him abruptly stopped, followed by the tiniest of splashes.

Arthur swore under his breath, looking around anxiously. He didn't have time for their games, not with the threat of Francis being so close. He knelt down close to the water, peering into the burbling creek at the kingdom hidden by Glamour from his own sight. Curious creatures, the forest Folk. Their unique mastery of magic was foreign to him, but that splash had to have signaled a retreat beneath the water. He knew their hidden world was there; it had to be.

"You are all in _danger_. There is a traitor in the Seelie Court who seeks the ruin of your forest and the water within it--you _must act_ quickly," he hissed into the surface of the water. He squinted, worrying his lower lip as Mint and the others whirled around his distorted reflection.

A pair of vibrant, violet-colored eyes materialized in the water below, blinking up at him through a veil of shimmering pale blue hair. Hope soared into his chest; they were listening to him. One of them, at least.

"You must believe me," he pleaded fervently, "There isn't much time. You must rally your people, gather them together to stand and fight--"

He froze, blood running cold as a low rumbling caught his ears.

Laughter. A low, confident chuckle that he recognized all too well.

"Ah, Arthur. Is that you?" Francis said as Arthur leapt to his feet, "How...interesting to see you. And here, of all places?" he said smoothly, his thin lips curling into a smirk. He batted a strand of golden hair from his eyes and pinned it behind his ear, tilting his head.

"How are you faring?" he asked sweetly, piercing sapphire eyes meeting smoldering emerald ones, "I heard that you were treated...rather poorly, on your way from the Court," he added in that singsong voice of his, slowly looking from his right hand, then down to his feet with a wicked smile.

"But, then again," he mused with a bored sigh as he took a step toward him; Arthur's fingers flexed instinctively, prepared to strike, "such is fitting for a traitor of the Court, am I right? And dressed in the rags of mortals, hm? How strange,"

" _You_ are the traitor here, Francis," Arthur snarled bitterly as Mint screeched a few choice words at the man before him, "I know what you're planning, and I'm going to stop you," he added confidently, fire rising in his belly.

He glared as Francis laughed, shaking his head.

"Oh, are you?" he mocked, folding his arms casually across his chest, "I'm afraid you are far too late for that, my dear Arthur,"

Arthur scowled at him and said nothing, flicking his eyes around him for any signs of reinforcements. He came up empty, surrounded on all sides by evergreens and the damp morning fog. Dawn was breaking, casting  long shadows through pale orange among the trees.

"You suggest reinforcements," Francis sighed as he shook his head, "when there simply are none to be had. It appears I missed one, however...there are always stragglers, aren't they? Such a pain," he mused, glancing down at the burbling water as Arthur felt his stomach plummet.

"No matter. I can take care of that later on," Francis stated as he unfolded his arms and slowly approached, cracking his knuckles.

Arthur stood his ground, clenching his fists as the other man stalked toward him, elegantly raising his arm and outstretching his slender fingers.

"It was a pity that you had to be sacrificed, but...just stay still, and I'll make this as painless as possible--" Francis promised, stretching out his arm toward him. Arthur swung his fist upward with a grunt, a tendril of bright green flame bursting forth as a shock of blue lightning crackled from Francis's palm.

They both hit the ground, scrambling to their feet as they glared at their opponent. Arthur's leg was screaming at him in pain, but he refused to give in. He was powered by sheer rage, vision tinged red at the sight of the disgusting creature before him.

Francis scowled at him, eyes flashing with rage.

Mint and the others retreated to the water's surface, chattering into it as much as they could, but Arthur barely heard them as he prepared another attack.

He was going to kill this man.

Far above them, a robin chirped uncertainly.

He was going to kill this man. _Slowly_.

* * *

Notes: The Banshee is one of the more famous of the Folk from Celtic lore. To hear her wail is to hear her announcing someone's death. Come across her in the wilderness, and things will not go well for you at all. Same with the Red Caps, which are vicious creatures whose hats are stained red with the blood of their victims. The Anwyn were usually depicted as much more peaceful, living in the Welsh equivalent of the City of Atlantis under the sea. Not all Anwyn dwelt in the oceans, however, and others were known to inhabit areas around inland waters. The Gancanagh is a rather unique creature, having parallels to the lore about the Incubus. Instead of attacking people in their sleep, however, the Gancanagh would only seek out one victim at a time, taking careful steps to make sure he looked precisely how the intended victim would like her lover to appear. He shows up as kind of a loner, standing out in a field or leaning casually against a fence with a smoldering pipe. Thing is, he never smokes it (there is lore suggesting that the Fae don't like smoke). Maybe he thinks it just makes him look cool, like an old timey Clark Gable smoking a cigar.

As for Changelings, they were Fae children swapped for a human baby in the cradle. Sometimes, the exchange would involve the actual Fae infant. Other times, the Fae would leave an enchanted chunk of wood instead that would only look and act like a baby for a finite period of time. After the spell wore off, the bewildered human parents would be left with a block of wood in the cradle instead of what they thought was their child. If an actual baby was left, and the Changeling child was well cared for, there were times where the Fae parents would decide to take the child back and return the human baby. If not, the Changeling would be raised as a human until they realized that something was off about their son or daughter. There are several methods for getting a Changeling to reveal himself or herself, the oddest one I've found yet being to boil eggshells and serve them as food to the Changeling. The Fae child will be so confounded by the parents serving such a thing that he/she will spout a poem stating his/her disbelief. Obviously, no human child is going to have poetry memorized specifically dealing with eggshells (at least, I wouldn't think so. Who knows? Maybe). Once the Changeling realizes that the jig is up, he/she usually leaves the house by climbing up through the chimney. Weird stuff.

 


	13. Inferno

He crept soundlessly across the pine needles, squinting through the darkness with his bow in hand. It was just before dawn, the perfect time to set up his stand and lie in wait for the elk to move to feed in the meadow. The spear rested across his back, though Alfred still couldn't think of any practical reason to have brought it along for an elk hunt. Still, Gowan had insisted, and if Alfred did happen to run into something nasty, it would be sure to--

He froze as a sound reached his ears. The faintest shuffling noise, deft feet moving across mossy terrain. Alfred frowned, noting how it had abruptly stopped as soon as he had paused. He continued forward, cocking his bow as his mind raced. Was he being followed? Probably Kayne or Gil, knowing them, probably going to pop out at any second and scare the living daylights out of him.

He looked down, deliberately walking over a fallen branch.

CRACK.

He kept moving, coming to a sudden halt.

CRACK.

"Who's there?" Alfred demanded as he whirled around, finding only dark woods behind him. He swallowed, fighting off a shiver. Nobody could disappear that quickly, not when they were that close behind him.

He swore rather loudly as a bird suddenly shot past him, swooping near his head before disappearing into the dark trees. He returned the arrow to his quiver and ran his hand through his bangs, muttering under his breath. He paused to collect himself for a moment, taking in the sounds of the forest. A tree groaning as the wind tossed its branches, the burble of the creek some distance away...

He exhaled slowly, returning to his task. He probably was just imagining things. He hadn't exactly slept well the past few nights, although the group had managed to take down three elk so far. That would be sufficient to keep the village fed for quite some time, but there was still time to hunt down another one. Each moment he spent in the pristine wilderness brought him one step closer to Arthur, to his strange accent and those wonderful, bright eyes--

CRACK.

Alfred turned around, frowning into the darkness.

"Gil, this isn't funny. You're going to blow my cover if there's an elk nearby," Alfred scolded, nervously reaching and taking an arrow from his quiver. He waited anxiously, scanning the forest for any sign of movement.

" _Wrong way_ ," a voice whispered into his ear.

Alfred screamed, shooting an arrow haphazardly into the forest as he lunged away. He shivered, the sound of the stranger's voice still vibrating in his ear. He whirled around, grabbing another arrow and shakily setting it.

He was met with dark, empty forest.

The bowstring hummed with the force of his hand shaking, amplified tenfold in his panic.

"Who are you?" he demanded, cursing how his voice wavered.

No response.

"WHO ARE YOU?" he cried, heart pounding in his chest.

He was alone, it was dark...he could probably find his way back to the campsite, assuming whoever this was didn't block his way--

"No need to shout," the voice said again, from behind him.

Alfred yelped, cocking the bow and whirling around. A slim silhouette met his wide-eyed gaze, leaning casually against the trunk of one of the pines. Alfred couldn't make out if it was man or woman in the darkness.

All he could see was a pair of glowing, amber-colored eyes.

* * *

Arthur lunged forward with a roar, a crackling burst of emerald fire pulsing from his fist as he aimed for Francis's jaw. The blow itself missed, but the flames did not. Francis staggered backward with a snarl, the smell of burning hair filling Arthur's nostrils as he moved to strike again.

"You should have done yourself a favor and just _died_ out there," Francis hissed as he swiftly threw down his arm.

Arthur ducked, rolling across the ground as a brilliant bolt of cerulean light hit the ground behind him. Chunks of moist earth were uprooted, raining down on him as he glared at his opponent.

"Allow me to put you out of my misery, Francis," Arthur growled, crouching on the ground and snapping his fingers. A tiny green flame obediently appeared, dancing atop his palm. Francis lunged forward, dagger in-hand as Arthur held his palm upward and blew on the flame.

The air erupted with a loud popping sound as a vortex of emerald fire took flight from his open hand. The forest lit up with green light, outlining Francis's figure as he quickly dodged the roaring spiral of flame.

Arthur lunged left, meeting Francis's retreat with a swift blow to his head with Alfred's walking stick. Francis yelped as he made contact, swerving back into the path of the flames as Arthur smirked in triumph.

He winced as he prepared another strike; his ankle was not taking kindly to this treatment at all. It burned, climbing up his leg and into his hip. He was destroying what little healing he had managed, he thought to himself with a snarl.

Francis yelped in pain, scrambling unsteadily to his feet and swiftly bringing his fist upward. A bolt of blue light ricocheted in a blazing arc, grazing Arthur's jaw.

He hit the ground with a cry, nursing his injury as the brand on the back of his hand angrily throbbed. He was drawing too much power at once, and his body was letting him know it. He rolled to his feet and clutched the walking stick in quivering hands. The pain in his leg was starting to blind him, savage little pinpricks of darkness encroaching on the edges of his vision.

To hell with limits.

He couldn't back down, not now.

* * *

Alfred cried out, dropping the bow and arrow to the ground with a clatter as his head exploded with pain. His knees failed him, bringing him to the soggy forest floor. He pressed his hands to his temples, breathing shallowly as those feral, amber eyes studied him. The figure placed something slender in its hand to its lips, contemplating.

"I _knew_ it," the figure mused, unfazed by Alfred's obvious pain, "My, you've certainly grown up,"

"W-what?" Alfred stammered, trying to pry his eyes open. The pain was excruciating, threatening to rip his skull in half. The mysterious figure simply watched him, tilting its head as it watched him.

"Why do you have that _thing_ with you?" it demanded, sounding rather displeased.

"What thing?" Alfred wheezed as he tried to sit up. He managed a crouch, bracing himself unsteadily with his fingertips on the damp soil.

"That hideous thing on your back," the figure elaborated with a snarl. Those pulsing yellow eyes narrowed as it crossed its arms, leaving the--was it a pipe? It hung lazily out of the corner of its mouth, unlit.

" _Who_ are you?" Alfred demanded once again, breathing through his nose to try and keep the pain at bay.

"Aw, you forgot about me?" the figure pouted, tilting its head. Alfred guessed that the owner of the voice was male, but it was hard to tell. There was a sing-song quality to his voice that perturbed Alfred, like he had heard it somewhere before--

_"You're going to live...for a price,"_

Alfred gasped, shuddering as the stranger chuckled. It was giddy, gleeful...but sounded so sinister. There was a dark undertone that made Alfred nervous, verging on the precipice of insanity.

" _There_ it is," he said with a triumphant nod, "Now you remember. It's been a long time, hasn't it?"

Alfred couldn't answer, frozen by a growing trepidation. That voice...but that had just been a dream, right? A nightmare, something his mind had come up with to cope with his accident--

"All those years back...I had nearly forgotten about you, honestly," the stranger admitted with a shrug, "but there was no mistaking it when I sensed you in the forest just now. That's _my_ handiwork, all right," he stated proudly, puffing out his chest.

"What are you saying?" Alfred demanded with a growl, pushing himself to his feet as his head painfully throbbed. He stubbornly remained standing, refusing to give in as he glared into those amber eyes.

"Yeah, your mother wasn't too keen on letting you die," he sighed wistfully, tilting his head to look up at the canopy of trees, "I wasn't looking to make a deal-well, not that kind, anyway, but...she did make a good one. And look how it paid off!" he said gleefully, clapping his hands.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Alfred demanded, gritting his teeth.

The stranger sauntered forward a few paces, stopping suddenly and throwing a glare over Alfred's shoulders. It was quickly replaced by a lopsided grin, making those strange eyes shimmer and a set of jagged teeth glint in the dim light.

"Didn't think she had it in her at first," he mused, shaking his head, "But a deal's a deal, and she came through for me when the time came. Delicious...best meal in years..." he reminisced as he rubbed his palms together.

"What--?" Alfred demanded as a bright blue light temporarily blinded him.

He blinked furiously, spots dancing in front of his eyes as they struggled to adjust to the darkness. Dawn was approaching, a tentative twilight just coming into bloom over the dark horizon.

"No," Alfred muttered as he realized that the stranger had disappeared, "NO!" he cried, whirling around and desperately searching, "COME BACK!"

Silence surrounded him, save for the frantic beating of his heart and the slow burbling of the creek down the hillside. The pain in his head had subsided as quickly as it had come, as soon as that strange figure had vanished.

He had to know more. Who the hell was that? What of his mother? What _deal_ had been made?

He jumped as a loud crackling sound met his ears, followed by a pulse of bright blue light. He squinted, throwing his arm to his forehead. Lightning? But there were no clouds, at least not that Alfred could tell in the dim predawn light. It was as if the lightning was only striking in one place, strike after strike of brilliant blue that left Alfred mesmerized.

He steeled himself, gathered his bow and arrow from the ground at his feet, and raced toward it.

* * *

"It's too late," Francis snapped as he glared at him, "They're _dead_ already," he added as he moved toward him, drawing his fist back to strike. He was trying to conserve his magical reserves, Arthur noted, striking with his body rather than with his signature lightning. Arthur figured he probably should do the same if he intended to win this fight, but-

"I know what you're up to, Francis," Arthur growled, focusing his energy to strike, "I'm not letting you anywhere near that water," he added resolutely.

Francis had the audacity to laugh, shaking his head. His hair was disheveled, the strands on one side frayed, charred, and still smoldering. It would have been hilarious, was Arthur not fighting for his life.

"Oh?" Francis mused, tilting his head mockingly as he grinned at him, "And I suppose you think this will allow you to regain the favor of the Queen, yes?"

Arthur glared at him as Francis laughed, those sharp blue eyes twinkling. What he had ever seen in them before? What he had once thought of as pools of the deepest blue seas now held only icy contempt. What a _fool_ he had been.

"I have to admire your patriotism, Arthur, but that simply isn't the case," Francis mocked.

"Shut up," Arthur demanded as he snapped his fingers again. This time, multiple flames appeared, one dancing elegantly on each outstretched fingertip. He held it in front of him menacingly; Francis stopped dead in his tracks. Arthur noted the flicker of fear across his face, grinning wickedly.

"Arthur," he warned, "There is no need for--"

Arthur laughed, flicking his wrist. Five tendrils of flame shot out with a mighty roar, spiraling together and converging into a terrible green blaze. Francis ducked, only to have the flames follow. He ran frantically, zigzagging between trees as a trail of emerald fire followed close behind him, leaving a path of destruction in its wake. Arthur watched carefully, leaning heavily on his walking stick. This much magic was difficult to control when he was at his best. With his injury, though...

BAM.

He staggered forward as he was hit from behind, sprawling onto the damp earth. He rolled to the side, just in time to avoid having his head kicked in. He scrambled onto all fours, wincing as he made the mistake of putting too much weight onto his ankle. Pain seared up his leg and into his back as he shakily forced himself to stand.

"Can't even handle a crippled guy?" his assailant teased, shaking his head, "Wow, you really can't do anything without me," he laughed, producing a wooden pipe from his pocket and placing it between his teeth. Remnants of green flame crackled behind him, illuminating his silhouette in the dim morning light. He was short and thin, with a flyaway spiral of hair jutting out from his bangs.

Arthur knew that saunter, that strange, lilting accent...this was one of the Unseelie Francis had allied himself with. Deception incarnate, a fleeting shadow with fierce, wolf-like eyes. He had never seen this one in particular before, not to his knowledge, but his demeanor was unmistakable.

"I was _handling_ it," Francis snarled an agitation as he stalked over to him, "Where have you been?"

"Just...looking around," the strange Unseelie answered with a half-hearted shrug.

"This is NOT the time to go searching for prey," Francis warned, "we came here for a reason. Get to it already," he ordered, throwing his arm out toward the creek.

"NO," Arthur snapped, tightening his grip on his walking stick. His breathing was heavy, exhausted from calling up that much magic all at once. He was still in bad shape, even after all of the energy he had taken from Alfred. He should have anticipated that Francis would never go into something like this alone; even after his exile, Arthur was still a fool.

The Unseelie turned toward him with a bemused smirk, slowly removing the pipe from his lips and placing into a pouch in his belt. He appeared to be studying him carefully, arching a slender eyebrow.

"Pay him no mind," Francis dismissed with a flick of his wrist; Arthur growled.

To his surprise, the stranger laughed. It was a maniacal kind of cackle, melodic in an unsettling way...a prelude to madness.

"Pay him no mind, eh? After all of this?" he teased, gesturing toward the emerald embers smoldering on the ground.

Francis looked positively livid, blue eyes flashing dangerously. His hands were balled into fists, mouth contorted into a scowl. A nerve below his right eye twitched in obvious agitation.

"Just do it already," Francis spat as he strode toward Arthur, " _I_ will handle _him_ ,"

Arthur extended his hand, snapping his fingers. The flame obediently appeared, whirling elegantly in his outstretched palm. Francis lunged forward with a roar, bringing a bolt of lightning with him as Arthur expelled his lungs onto the flame.

* * *

Alfred threw his arm in front of his face as what he could only describe as green fire erupted in front of him, followed by a crackling flash of blue light. He staggered backward as a blast of heat roared past him and into the surrounding trees. He squinted; two blurry figures were visible among the flames.

There were people in there.

"HEY!" Alfred screamed as he dove forward, running headfirst into the flames without a second thought. He had to help them before the entire forest burnt to the ground, get them to safety on other side of the creek before the smoke overwhelmed the lot of them--

He screeched to a halt as a piercing blue light shattered the ground ahead of him, falling to the ground in shock. He blinked furiously as he tried to regain his vision, his sight reduced to blinding flashes of white light.

"Well, Arthur, it appears that you're in trouble again," a smooth voice teased from ahead of him.

Alfred shakily stood, blinking away his blindness as the scene in front of him slowly materialized. A tall, thin man stood some yards away, with hair almost to his shoulders. There was another man on his knees in front of him, of rather slight of build with flaxen blonde hair--

"No," Alfred blurted in disbelief.

* * *

Arthur grit his teeth as Francis hoisted him to his knees by his hair. He snarled, furious with his weak body for failing him. His limbs hung uselessly at his sides, the consequence of drawing too much magical power at once. He used to be able to handle much more, damn it all, he used to be _strong_.

"Well, Arthur, it appears that you're in trouble again," Francis stated silkily, those bright eyes of his flashing in triumph. He tightened his grip, making Arthur wince.

So this was how it was going to end. Fitting, in a strange, sick way. That Arthur's former lover would be the one to both exile and murder him, that he would completely ruin his entire life--

He felt his jaw fall open as someone suddenly emerged from behind Francis, a tall, menacing silhouette through the haze of the smoke. It raised a weapon high, threatening to strike.

Arthur's stomach roiled; there was something horrible to it, the bitter scent of iron filling him with panic--

"LET HIM GO!" a familiar voice cried.

Francis barely had time to turn around before the spear nicked his shoulder.

Arthur fell backward as Francis released his grip and whirled with an ear-splitting howl of pain. He could only imagine the anguish of being pierced with iron, though he imagined he would be experiencing something similar quite soon with his injuries.

Arthur looked on from his pillow of pine needles as Francis retreated, nursing his wounded shoulder and dashing out of sight. He was relieved, yes, but he couldn't say that he cared much at present where Francis was headed. A sweet numbness was starting to take hold of him, drawing him down into the depths as a pair of worried blue eyes swam over him.

"Arthur?!" someone shouted. The voice was warbled, distorted by the sound of water flowing in Arthur's ears. Everything was blurry, melding together pale dawn and green embers, dark trees and a pair of sapphire eyes. It was beautiful, a slowly moving canvas of color.

Who was that, again?

Oh. That was right. Alfred. Alfred had come for him. How nice.

"Arthur!"

Yes, yes, I'm here.

I'm...here.

* * *

The spear fell to the ground with a soft thud as Alfred dove forward and knelt next to Arthur. He had a bloody lip, not to mention the burn on his jaw...he looked positively exhausted, bleary green eyes blinking up at him but seeing nothing. What was he doing out here? Who was that man who had been attacking him? And the blue light and _green_ fire--?

"Arthur!" he shouted nervously as he shook him.

The other man's eyes slipped closed for answer, appearing to be asleep as Alfred's panic increased a thousand fold. He wasn't...?

He pressed his fingers to Arthur's throat, relieved when he was rewarded with a dull heartbeat. Arthur was alive. He was going to be all right, Alfred would make sure of it--

"AAAAAAAAA--!"

Alfred leapt to his feet as a shriek filled the forest and his blood ran cold. He knew that voice.

"GIL?" he shouted, looking around nervously. Empty forest met his gaze, marred by the occasional flicker of green flames in the underbrush. He looked back at Arthur nervously, hesitating only briefly before picking up the spear and dashing in the direction of the scream.

* * *

Gil staggered backward, eyes wide as the strange woman leapt out of the creek and glared at him. She was very pale, almost white, with powder blue hair and piercing eyes of vibrant amethyst. But that wasn't the strangest part.

She was floating in mid-air, flanked by beads of whitewater that hovered like strangely-shaped pearls around her. The creek hissed angrily beneath her, calm burbling replaced by turbulent swirls.

"H-hello," Gil wheezed as he backed up a pace. He had just crossed over the creek, heading toward what looked like a fire in the distance. Alfred had been planning on setting up in that part of the woods, and Gil wanted to make sure that-

"AAAAAAAAA--!" he shrieked as the woman suddenly lunged forward and hissed at him, revealing a set of rather sharp-looking teeth. He fell to the ground, throwing his hands up in surrender.

"Wait!" he blurted as she arched a pale brow at him, "I-I'm just looking for my friend. He's here somewhere, over where the fire was," he added, pointing toward the area in question. Violet eyes flickered toward where he was pointing before resting upon him again and filling him with panic.

"I just want to help him. Please," he pleaded as he slowly rose to his feet.

The woman looked him up and down, frowning thoughtfully as beads of water floated in lazy circles around her in mid-air.

"Please," he repeated nervously.

"GIL!" a familiar voice shouted. Gil spun around as Alfred came dashing toward him through the forest, spear in-hand.

Gil jumped as a loud splash erupted from beside him; the strange woman was gone.

"Alfred, what the FUCK IS HAPPENING?" Gil demanded shakily, throwing his hands into his pockets to keep them from trembling. Where had she gone? She couldn't have disappeared _into_ the creek, it was too shallow.

...right?

"Who was that?" Alfred asked, gesturing toward the creek.

"I don't know!" Gil cried, "But she...she wasn't...that was some kind of--!" he stammered.

"Are you all right?" Alfred interrupted.

"I...well...yeah," Gil stammered as he shook his head, "The hell's going on?"

"Arthur," Alfred blurted suddenly, pivoting on his heel and dashing back toward where the smoke was rising through the trees.

"WHAT?" Gil demanded hotly as he gave chase, "Alfred, WHAT--?"

"ARTHUR is out here," Alfred shouted over his shoulder as he ran, "He's hurt. He needs help,"

* * *

Gil just ran after him for a moment, processing what he had just been told.

"Wha--how? He got all the way out here on his own?" Gil blurted as he followed Alfred down a hill and into a grove of pines. The scent of burning wafted to him as he ran, though it wasn't as strong as he had feared based upon the smoke he had seen--

He stopped dead, staring at a single flickering ember pulsing upon the ground. Dancing gracefully, whirling about in the soft breeze, the emerald-colored flame glowed innocently at him.

"What the hell...?" he blurted, looking up. Alfred was crouched upon the ground, hunched over a figure lying there.

Gil swore as he caught up, kneeling beside Alfred.

Arthur was unconscious, though aside from what appeared to be a burn on his jaw and a fat lip, he looked no worse for wear. Gil hissed as he looked over his ankle, though; damn thing was swollen up as large as a boulder.

"That's gonna hurt when he wakes up," he commented as Alfred nodded sadly, "Alfred, how the hell did he get out here?"

Alfred looked up at him, eyes hollow.

"Alfred?" Gil pressed, not liking that look on his face.

"Listen, we need to get him away from the smoke," Gil stated firmly, nodding at Alfred, "Can you lift him?"

"Yeah," Alfred answered numbly as he gathered the other man into his arms.

"Great," Gil muttered, looking around worriedly, "Let's get him over the creek. Fire won't reach us that way if it decides to take off again,"

* * *

"Alfred," Gil pressed as he knelt down in front of him. They had brought Arthur across the creek, into one of the clearings Alfred had discovered during his expedition into the forest. The grass here was long and soft, the breeze cool and gentle. Arthur hadn't even stirred since their arrival, silent and still.

Alfred drew a deep breath and slowly released it, running his hands through his bangs.

"Gil," he said finally, "What I'm about to tell you, you can't repeat to _anyone_. Understand?"

"Yeah," Gil nodded, "Yeah, I understand,"

He hesitated; where to begin?

Alfred nodded, looking up at the sky before beginning to speak.

 


	14. Illumined

Arthur awoke to fingers gently running through his hair, to the sound of low humming from beside him. He hesitated before opening his eyes as he tried to remain still. Who was that? Where was he?

A soft breeze blew past him, carrying the scent of pine needles and damp earth. Soft grasses rustled against his skin as it went past, toying with his bangs as whoever this stranger was softly stroked his hair. He could sense the sun from behind his closed eyelids, could feel its warm rays dancing upon his face. It was comfortable here, nestled against the warm body next to him. The man's chest rumbled as he hummed, a perfect symphony lulling Arthur into a peaceful trance. The tune was hauntingly familiar, unchained and melodic and undoubtedly one Arthur had heard somewhere before. Some sort of Folk song?

Ah, but it mattered little. All he wanted was to rest here, where he was safe. He felt calm, secure, for the first time in ages.

The humming gave way to a low chuckle and the fingers in his hair stopped as whoever was beside him laughed.

"I know you're awake, Arthur," the man stated, but Arthur found himself either unwilling or unable to move--he wasn't quite certain.

"...Alfred?" Arthur mumbled. He was exhausted; it felt as if he hadn't spoken in ages, his mouth dry and voice hoarse. How long had he been lying here?

"Mm-hmm," Alfred hummed dreamily, resuming carding his fingers in Arthur's hair. Arthur practically purred, leaning into Alfred's touch as the other laughed softly.

"...what are we doing out here?" Arthur yawned blearily, "Where are we?"

"Shh, it's all right," Alfred soothed, wrapping his other arm around him; Arthur sighed contentedly, "We're just taking a breather, that's all,"

"From what?" Arthur asked as he maneuvered his body to be closer to Alfred's. Alfred sighed, tightening his hold around his waist.

"Well, you have a lot to run away from," Alfred stated, voice smooth like honey--

"...what?" Arthur asked hesitantly, cracking his eyes open. Alfred's ivory-colored shirt was soft against his face, hiding lovely tanned skin as Alfred whistled.

"You must be exhausted, running away from everything you've ruined," Alfred reasoned, the hand in Arthur's hair coming to an abrupt halt, "From every _body_ you've ruined,"

Arthur gulped, dread seizing him in an icy grip as Alfred chuckled. He couldn't move, frozen in fear as Alfred's hand left his head and his other arm looped around him, trapping him.

"Let go," Arthur hissed as he struggled against him.

"But that's what you do," Alfred whispered, his arms springing off of him. Arthur wrenched free, rolling onto the grass and leaping to his feet.

"It's what you were _born_ to do," Alfred said softly as Arthur looked down at him in horror.

Those eyes. Sharp and yellow, malevolent jewels of the sun.

"You were born to ruin, Arthur," Alfred whispered, "To ruin everything,"

Arthur vaguely felt his knees hit the ground as he grew weak, Alfred's piercing gaze hungrily staring at him. He wanted to warn him to stay back. He wanted to save himself, to extend his hand and strike, but he couldn't.

He couldn't.

Alfred loomed over him, those piercing amber eyes glittering dangerously as the sunlight was abruptly drowned out. A harsh, cold breeze rushed past Arthur's ears as Alfred's hands pressed his shoulders into the earth.

"And soon," Alfred purred as he smiled down at him, jagged teeth glinting beneath glowing yellow eyes, "There will be nothing left,"

* * *

Arthur shot bolt upright, wildly flailing his arms. He hissed, clutching his swollen ankle. Alfred could only imagine how much pain he had to have been in.

"Hey--" Alfred ventured, but Arthur was having none of it. He screamed, green eyes wide with fright as he threw his arm toward Alfred and snapped his fingers.

A tiny green flame came to life in his outstretched palm, dancing from side to side quietly.

Alfred watched the flame, mesmerized. How--?

He tore his gaze from the emerald light and into a pair of very wide emerald eyes. Arthur was very pale, and obviously very shaken. His chest heaved as he breathed haggardly, hand quivering as the flame whirled about.

"Arthur, it's all right," Alfred said slowly, hands raised in mock surrender. He was glad Gil had left to make sure none of the other members of the hunting party discovered Arthur's whereabouts. Not until Alfred had some answers, anyway.

"It's all right," Alfred repeated with a soft smile. Arthur blinked at him, slowly closing his fist. The tiny flicker died out instantly, disappearing as Arthur lowered his arm. His gaze was still fixed upon Alfred, though, licking his lips nervously.

"Arthur," Alfred said quietly, reaching out and slowly, carefully cupping Arthur's face in his hands. He jumped, but didn't pull away. Surprisingly, that odd spark he had been expecting didn't come. All he could feel through his fingertips was the subtle quivering of Arthur's jaw.

"...Alfred," Arthur said with a nod, drawing a deep breath, "I'm..." he trailed off with a frown, looking away.

"Are you all right?" Alfred asked as he looked him over.

Arthur didn't answer, worrying his lower lip as he pointedly avoided Alfred's gaze.

"Hey, c'mon," Alfred pleaded, "It's all right now. You're safe," he added, leaning forward and brushing Arthur's lips with his own. Arthur lunged forward to reciprocate, almost desperately, but managed to disturb his ankle in the process. He leapt backward with a yelp, curling into a ball.

"Let me see," Alfred said as he cautiously reached for Arthur's shoulder. He slowly uncoiled himself, looking more like a frightened animal than a person as bright green eyes suspiciously looked Alfred over. His outburst had moved the splint Alfred had fashioned for him; he set about repairing it in very tense silence as Arthur watched him.

He tried to remain calm as he wound the strip of his shirt around Arthur's swollen ankle. The air between them was thick, electrified with questions unasked. Alfred felt as though he might burst if he didn't say something, anything--but his tongue was frozen to the roof of his mouth, doubt and confusion running rampant as the silence dragged on.

"Thank you," Arthur said softly as Alfred completed his task, sitting back onto the soft grass.

"No problem!" Alfred blurted much louder than he should have, but the relief of the tension being broken was too great.

Arthur smiled at him, looking down at the ground with a soft sigh as Alfred nervously bit his lip. He had to know. He just _had_ \--

"Alfred," Arthur said suddenly, turning that green gaze back onto him, "I'm sure you have questions. You may ask them,"

Ah.

Well.

"...how did you get out here?" Alfred asked after a pause, toying with a blade of grass between his fingertips. Arthur frowned slightly, shrugging.

"I walked," he answered.

"With your leg like that?" Alfred retorted, arching an eyebrow.

"The walking staff you made me was very helpful," Arthur pointed out with a sly grin; Alfred turned away before he could blush.

"Walking out to the stables was challenging a few days ago," Alfred pointed out, looking down at the grass, "And now you're telling me you managed to hike miles into the forest, alone?"

Arthur remained silent.

"That's impossible," Alfred concluded as he looked back up at him, "Not for...not for a human, anyway," he added with dread.

He watched sadly as Arthur paled, mouth pressed into a thin line.

"Arthur," Alfred sighed, licking his lips anxiously, "Are you...Folk?"

Arthur's silence spoke for itself, hanging heavily between them as a cool breeze ruffled the tall grasses around them.

 _The spear_. No wonder Arthur hated it so much. Leesy had told Alfred tales of how they Folk hated iron, of how mortals could use it as a means of warding them away from their homes. Alfred had never been one to believe in such things...until now, of course.

"That fire...that was you?" Alfred blurted, unsure of whether he was frightened or fascinated at this point. He didn't want to leave Arthur in the forest by himself, but it didn't mean he wasn't nervous.

"That is how my magic manifests itself," Arthur explained matter-of-factly, offering Alfred a small smile, "I apologize for just a moment ago; I was startled,"

"But who was that man? The one that attacked you?" Alfred blurted, leaning forward excitedly.

He immediately regretted it. An expression of genuine pain flashed across Arthur's face then, dulling his eyes momentarily as he sighed.

"Francis used to be a...partner of mine," Arthur answered eventually, looking down at the ground.

Alfred paused. 'Partner?'

No. The very thought made him sick. But perhaps Arthur meant...something else?

"As in...lover?" he stammered before he could stop himself, suddenly quite anxious, "O-or business partner...?" he added dumbly.

Perhaps he had been wrong to jump to conclusions. Perhaps--

"Both," Arthur answered quietly, barely audible, as he stared down at the ground miserably.

"...I see," Alfred managed over the crushing feeling in his chest, cursing himself for acting so foolish. Arthur wasn't his, and truly, did Alfred really believe someone as lovely and charming as Arthur wouldn't have had...?

"I-I'm sorry," Alfred added.

Arthur snarled, shaking his head as he looked back at Alfred.

"No, don't be," he said as he cleared his throat; Alfred noted the tightness in the other's voice, but refrained from discussing it, "It's my own fault. If it wasn't for me being...just...none of this would have happened," he trailed off, gesturing to his injured foot.

"Wait," Alfred said suddenly, causing Arthur to jump, "This Francis guy did that to you? He broke your ankle?" he added, filled with righteous fury.

"Not exactly," Arthur answered.

Alfred sighed, running his fingers through his bangs. Even so, if he ever saw this Francis character again, he'd be a dead man. Alfred found himself wishing he had aimed to kill with his spear rather than just disarm.

"Arthur, you have to tell me the truth. The _entire_ truth," he said, pausing until Arthur nodded slowly, "What happened to you? Why were you really out in the Moor on Beltane?"

Arthur sighed heavily, clenching his hands into fists.

"I used to be...quite important in the Court," Arthur said softly, "Francis had convinced me to participate in a coup, take the throne for ourselves...I was such an _idiot_ ," he spat, shaking his head.

"Instead, he...betrayed me. He told the Queen that I was the one who had turned against her. She believed him...and here I am," Arthur concluded with a self-deprecating grin.

"So...you were exiled?" Alfred deduced as Arthur nodded, "And they broke your ankle as punishment,"

Alfred shuddered; wasn't it bad enough that Arthur couldn't return home? Why prolong his misery?

"It's a warning," Arthur explained through a strained voice, "that I can't escape from them. That I will never be able to..." he trailed off, waving his arm, "You understand,"

Alfred nodded slowly, looking up at the sky as he slowly released the breath he had been holding. Poor Arthur.

"But what was he doing in the woods?" Alfred asked after a time, stealing a look back down at Arthur. He was hunched over the knee he had pulled to his chest, masking his face.

"He still intends to kill the Queen," Arthur answered softly, "But he needs to draw her out of the Court somehow. Fouling the water that feeds the home of the Folk would be as good of a distraction as any. I had to stop him...I had to at least _try_ ,"

"How did you know he was here?" Alfred asked, worried at how Arthur refused to look at him.

"I--" Arthur started, but was cut off by something darting out in front of his face. Alfred blinked, wide-eyed, as the array of many-colored lights danced dizzily between them, a cloud of magic that made Alfred's head spin. He felt sick, as if he could no longer sit up straight. He steadied himself, leaning back on his hands.

"It's all right. He knows," Arthur stated firmly as the lights abruptly stopped moving. They hovered in mid-air, rotating quietly. If Alfred didn't know better, he would have sworn that they were _looking_ at him.

"Everyone: this is Alfred," Arthur introduced, gesturing toward Alfred with a nod.

Alfred hissed, flinching as all seven of them clustered around him. He didn't dare move, let alone breathe, lest one of them--

"It's all right, Alfred," Arthur chuckled, "They won't harm you,"

"These..." Alfred muttered, watching a lively green one as it flitted over to Arthur's shoulder and perched upon it, "I've seen them before,"

Arthur nodded, looking down at the creature on his shoulder.

"They led me to you in the Moor," Alfred breathed, hardly believing what he was saying, "They're Will-'o'-th'-wisps, ri--?"

He jumped as the green spirit launched itself off of Arthur's arm and directly into Alfred's face. He yelped, cringing and flinging his arms over his head in shock.

"Mint," Arthur scolded as the tiny green light darted back and forth; it halted at Arthur's voice, settling for hovering about a foot away from Alfred's nose instead.

"...did I say something wrong?" Alfred blurted quietly, not daring to take his eyes off of the creature in front of him. This was crazy; was he dreaming?

"The term you used is offensive to them, yes," Arthur clarified, "But Mint knows you didn't mean it. Isn't that right?" he added, pointedly arching an eyebrow. The little green creature in front of him swayed from side to side elegantly, rotating in front of him.

Alfred's breath caught as he made out the tiniest figure, a miniature human body with hair like spun silk floating gently in a pool of green light. "Mint" placed her tiny hands on her hips as she looked him over.

"I-I'm sorry," Alfred managed. Thankfully, "Mint" nodded, returning to her seat upon Arthur's shoulder. Alfred slowly released the breath he had been holding, heart racing.

A peaceful silence fell between them as Arthur sighed, looking up at the sky. Alfred was already shaken in knowing that Arthur wasn't human, that he was in trouble, but...the most important question of all refused to be quelled, bubbling up from the back of his mind.

"Arthur," he said after a time.

Arthur turned attentively toward him, tilting his head to indicate that he was listening.

Alfred drew a deep breath, forcing himself to meet Arthur's gaze.

"...why did you lie to me?" Alfred demanded through grit teeth.

It was as if he had started a fire. Arthur's eyes widened, flashing dangerously as he raised his chin in obvious offense.

"I did NOT lie to you, Alfred," he snapped, "I have NEVER lied,"

"You said you got mugged. That was why you said you ended up in the Moor, not...this," Alfred snapped back, a bit surprised at Arthur's irritation. He had never seen him angry before, not like this. The look on the other man's face bordered on homicidal; was Arthur not injured, Alfred might have been worried.

"I _did_ , at another time," Arthur hissed, folding his arms across his chest as his glowing companions buzzed angrily around the clearing, " _You_ never specified at which time,"

Alfred blinked at him.

"...what?" he managed, "Why wouldn't you just tell me what happened?"

"And have you discover that I am not human?" Arthur retorted coolly, frowning, "What would you and Matthew have thought of me then, hm?"

Alfred retreated into silence at that statement, nodding slowly in acknowledgement as Arthur's friends ceased their frenzied buzzing and began lazily floating around them.

"And your Fhinn would have certainly had me _killed_ , had he known my true nature," Arthur added hotly. He paused, looking around, "Where have the other members of your hunting party gone to? They didn't...?" he trailed off nervously.

"Gil and I are the only ones who saw you, or the fire," Alfred said quickly in an attempt to calm him. Arthur exhaled, nodding slowly.

"Thank you, Alfred," Arthur said as he attempted to stand.

"Whoa, whoa, what are you doing?" Alfred blurted, rising to his feet as Arthur winced and fell onto his side, "Arthur!" he hissed as he quickly closed the distance between them, "You can't put pressure on it yet," he scolded, placing his hands on Arthur's shoulders.

"I _must_ go," Arthur insisted, wrapping his slender hands around Alfred's wrists and looking up at him defiantly, "There's no telling what Francis will do now. I have to stop him,"

"Like _this_?" Alfred asked flatly as he crouched in front of him, "Arthur, you need to heal first. You can't go off on your own with that... _lunatic_ out there looking for you,"

Arthur opened his mouth to retort, but found no words. He exhaled slowly, shaking his head.

"Let me help, Arthur," Alfred insisted, "You'll be safe in the village--"

"What?" Arthur blurted, eyes wide, "...you...you are considering taking me back to your home?" he asked, obviously surprised.

"Of course," Alfred said with a smile, "I fixed you up once; I can certainly do it again,"

Arthur looked at him as though he had sprouted another head.

"Alfred," he said patiently as Mint floated over to him and sat upon his shoulder once again, "I'm not _human_ ,"

"Right," Alfred agreed.

"...are you not afraid of me? Of what I might do?" Arthur asked quietly.

"Not at all," Alfred answered, shaking his head, "Besides, you've had plenty of time to murder me in my sleep. You would've done it already," he added with a cockeyed smile.

Arthur studied him in silence, brows furrowed over sharp green eyes.

"Is this...because we are married?" Arthur asked finally.

"Uh--" Alfred stumbled, rubbing the back of his head nervously, "I...well, Arthur, I've been meaning to tell you...we aren't actually married," he confessed with a sigh as he waited for Arthur's righteous wrath to fall upon him. Gods, he was an idiot.

To his shock, Arthur actually appeared...disappointed?

"We aren't?" he asked softly, tilting his head, "But I thought you said it was tradition,"

"Well, it is, but only on one day a year... not all of the time," Alfred admitted, "I'm sorry...I shouldn't have lied to you like that,"

"...I see," Arthur said with a forlorn sigh.

Several moments passed before Alfred found the presence of mind to speak again. Did...did Arthur actually want to be married to him? He had certainly sounded disappointed, but--

"Alfred!" Gil called as he approached.

Alfred got to his feet, watching in amazement as Arthur's companions whirled around Arthur in a protective cloud of light. Gil stopped dead, jaw falling open as red eyes looked on in terror.

"It's all right, Gil's a friend!" Alfred tried to reassure them. He breathed a sigh of relief as they slowly ceased their frenzy, bobbing around Arthur quietly.

"...what...?" Gil stammered, looking at Alfred with a look of sheer confusion.

"They're friendly. It's okay," Alfred tried to reassure him.

"Well explain it to me later," Gil blurted, looking behind him, "Hunting party's heading out early because of the fire. Some of 'em saw the smoke,"

Alfred nodded.

"I'm going to take Arthur back home," he stated, noting how Gil's eyes narrowed as they flickered over toward Arthur, "Tell Fhinn I'll be along later. Tell him I'm taking a walk or something,"

"Alfred," Gil started, lowering his voice, "Are you...sure? About taking him back to the village?"

"Positive," Alfred snapped, annoyed. Really, how could Gil be acting like this? Arthur wasn't a monster, "Oh, and take this," he added, hefting the spear from its place on the ground and handing it to Gil. He guessed Arthur probably wanted it as far away from him as possible.

Gil looked him over for a moment, fiddling with the spear in his hands before slowly nodding.

"What should I tell Matt, though?" Gil demanded as he placed a hand on his hip, "Odds are Arthur's been missing for days,"

"Let me deal with Matt," Alfred answered with a firm nod, "Just head back with Fhinn and the others. All right?"

Gil sighed, shaking his head.

"Fine," he conceded as he threw his arms into the air, "But you've got a LOT of explaining to do later," he warned, jabbing a finger at him.

"I'll tell you everything once Arthur is settled, I promise," Alfred answered anxiously.

"You'd better," Gil added with a raised eyebrow as he turned to rejoin the others, "Be careful," he added as he broke into a jog.

Alfred turned back to Arthur; he was watching where Gil was slowly disappearing into the trees with narrowed green eyes, obviously displeased.

"He's fine," Alfred tried to reassure him, "He won't tell anyone,"

"...let's hope not," Arthur grumbled.

Alfred gathered his pack and bow, placing them over his shoulders as Arthur watched him curiously.

"All right. Let's get you out of here, then," Alfred said, reaching down and lifting Arthur into his arms. Mint was dislodged from his shoulder at the gesture; she flitted into his hair instead.

"A-Alfred!" Arthur spluttered with indignation, "I can WALK,"

"Not well, though," Alfred pointed out, "I mean...I think we should get back to the village as soon as possible, don't you? We don't want to be caught in the woods at night,"

Besides, he admitted to himself, he rather fancied the idea of carrying Arthur, of holding him close and keeping him safe...

Arthur sighed, resigning himself to being hauled off.

"Fine," he mumbled grumpily, "Just don't drop me,"

* * *

The walk through the forest wasn't as calm as Alfred had hoped. He was still on edge, jumping at every snap of a branch and peering into the underbrush for a pair of glowing yellow eyes. It wouldn't be terribly long before they reached the village. Certainly before sunset, if Alfred maintained his pace.

"He won't be out this soon, Alfred," Arthur reassured him, noting his obvious discomfort, "Francis was wounded quite badly by that weapon of yours,"

"Y-yeah, iron, right?" Alfred stammered, "You guys hate that stuff,"

"Indeed we do," Arthur agreed flatly.

"...what about the other guy, though?" Alfred asked reluctantly, stealing a look down at Arthur as he shifted.

"Other guy?" Arthur repeated, emerald eyes wide, "What do you mean?"

Alfred hesitated, gulping.

"Alfred," Arthur commanded, "Who are you talking about?"

"There was this...other guy who spoke to me. Said that he knew me...something to do with my mother...? I don't know. He had these yellow eyes and--"

Alfred stopped abruptly as Arthur's face paled.

"Are you all right?" he asked worriedly as Arthur suddenly gripped the front of his shirt.

"He spoke to you?" Arthur demanded, brow furrowed and mouth set into a frown, "What did he say?"

"I-I don't know what he meant," Alfred stammered nervously. The intensity to Arthur's expression unnerved him, as if Arthur was staring through him rather than at him.

"What. Did. He. Say?" Arthur asked pointedly as Mint shifted anxiously in his bangs.

"H-he said...that he knew who I was because...something about a deal he made with my mother. Something about how she..." he paused for a moment to collect himself, "How she wasn't going to let me die,"

Arthur was silent, staring off into the woods in thought.

"Arthur?" Alfred ventured after a time, throat tight, "What does that _mean_?"

Alfred sighed, looking up at him.

"I'm sorry, Alfred," he admitted as he shook his head, "But I'm not sure. The Unseelie do have a tendency to speak in riddles,"

"...Unseelie?" Alfred asked as he continued walking.

"The other Court," Arthur explained softly, "They're the ones I was supposed to be fighting. The ones Francis aligned himself with,"

"Ah," Alfred said, nodding slowly.

"But that _is_ disturbing," Arthur mused with a studious frown, "Did he say what he wanted? Surely he wanted something from you,"

"N-no, he didn't...he disappeared when the lightning started flashing," Alfred answered after a moment's pause.

"Hm," Arthur answered half-heartedly, and that was that. Silence fell heavily between them for a time, broken only by Alfred asking Arthur if he was hungry. Alfred was fairly certain Arthur had fallen asleep a couple of times, but that was all right. He was safe, and that was what mattered.

"Alfred," Arthur said suddenly, making Alfred jump.

"Yes?" he asked.

"Try not to worry," he advised, "about that Unseelie. They're miserable creatures...it might have just been trying to toy with your mind,"

"You think so?" Alfred asked, slightly relieved.

"I've fought them long enough to be able to tell you that much, Alfred," Arthur reassured him.

"...thanks, Arthur," Alfred managed, "Thanks,"

* * *

"Arthur!" Irunya cried as Alfred approached his and Matt's home in the dim light of dusk. She ran out to greet them with open arms, kissing Arthur's forehead. Thankfully, Mint and her companions had disappeared as soon as Alfred and Arthur had emerged from the forest. That would have been difficult to explain, to say the least.

"Oh, thank the gods you're all right!" she exclaimed as she fussed over him, "Oh, your leg...let me get you some medicine," she blurted before Arthur had a chance to protest.

Matt ran out of the house moments later, looking rather disheveled.

"What the hell happened?" he demanded as he looked over at Arthur.

"I--" Arthur began.

"He was trying to help with the hunt," Alfred interjected, "He thought he could be helpful by looking for prey in the woods, maybe scouting out some areas. Then he got lost, and I happened to run into him. Good thing I did, right?"

Arthur blinked up at him, but said nothing.

Matt sighed, running his fingers through his bangs.

"Well you shouldn't have DONE THAT," he snapped, "Irunya and I have been looking everywhere for you,"

"Apologies," Arthur murmured.

"All right, I think he ought to get inside," Alfred suggested as Matt seethed, "Right?"

"Y-yeah," Matt sighed, "Yeah, I guess so,"

Alfred brought Arthur into the house, walking past Irunya and setting Arthur onto his bed.

"Thank you," Arthur murmured, shyly refusing to meet his gaze.

"You're wel--" he started.

"Medicine's ready!" Irunya chirped excitedly as he floated into the room and sat in the chair beside Alfred's bed, "This ought to help with the pain, Arthur," she added as she handed him a cup filled with some kind of foul-smelling tea.

"...thank you," Arthur said; Alfred noted the subtle wrinkling of his nose at the smell, but didn't comment on it.

"I'm so happy you're all right," Irunya sighed, "With some rest I think you'll be well enough to celebrate with Matthew and I! I'm so glad!"

Arthur blinked at her, arching an eyebrow as he looked to Alfred for clarification.

"Celebrate?" Alfred repeated, shrugging at Arthur.

"Well yes!" Irunya giggled, clapping her hands excitedly, "Matt, tell them the news,"

Matt shuffled into the room, looking rather anxious as he shoved his hands into his pockets.

"Well, uh...we..." he stammered.

"We're getting married!" Irunya exclaimed excitedly, bouncing up and down in her seat.

Alfred felt his jaw fall open as he looked from Irunya back to his brother. Matt looked...terrified, actually. His face was pale, jaw set in a stubborn attempt to not lose it completely.

"You are?" Alfred blurted dumbly as Irunya giggled.

"Yes! Aren't you excited?" she exclaimed.

"W-well yeah, of course!" Alfred blurted, "When did this happen?"

"Oh, well--" Irunya cut herself off to giggle, "--I discovered right after the hunting party left that I was with child. And Matt over here is the proud father-to-be," she announced with a dazzling grin; Matt looked like he was going to be sick.

"...a-already?" Alfred stammered in disbelief.

"Oh, Alfred, you're so cute," Irunya laughed, "Those times when your brother was so kind to walk me home...well, let's just say we didn't go straight home," she added with a wink.

"Ugh," Alfred blanched, clapping a hand over his face as Irunya laughed. Gods, the last thing he wanted was to imagine his brother doing anything with anyone.

"Irunya, please," Matt groaned, his face a blazing crimson.

"All right, I'm sorry," she conceded as she rose from her seat, "But I look forward to you being able to celebrate at the wedding with us, Arthur. And Alfred, would you play the pipes for us? You're so good at it, and I'm sure the other villagers would love it if you would,"

"Sure," Alfred agreed as Irunya swooped over and hugged him.

"Thank you, Alfred. I'll let you know more as we finish up with preparations!" she said excitedly as she headed out of the room.

"Keep an eye on Arthur for me," she instructed over her shoulder, "I'll come back tomorrow morning to check on him,"

"Thanks," Alfred called back, still reeling from the news.

"Matthew, will you walk me home?" she asked slyly.

"Y-yeah! No problem!" Matt blurted as he took off after her, "J-just a walk, though," he mumbled under his breath.

"See you tomorrow!" Irunya called cheerily; Alfred waited until he heard the front door click shut before exhaling the breath he had been holding.

"Wow," he managed as he sank into the chair beside where Arthur was seated.

"You are not happy about this?" Arthur asked, tilting his head to the side.

"No, I am," Alfred insisted, "It's just...kind of happening faster than I'd thought,"

"Hm," Arthur answered as he took a sip of Irunya's tea. His face contorted into an expression of disgust as he set the teacup onto his lap.

"Good stuff?" Alfred teased as Arthur shook his head.

"No, not at all," he answered with a frown.

"Well, it'll help with pain, so you'd be wise to drink up," Alfred suggested with a laugh as he rose from his seat and headed for the kitchen.

"Where are you going?" Arthur asked, almost sounding panicked that he was leaving.

"To get something for us to eat," Alfred reassured him with a smile, "I'll be right back. All right?"

"All right," Arthur answered with a nod.

Alfred drew a deep breath as he rummaged through the kitchen cabinets in search of food. He was exhausted; too much was happening at once.

Still, he reasoned as he retrieved a roll and broke it in half, at least he still had Arthur with him. And as he returned to his room and was met with a smile and a pair of twinkling green eyes, he was comforted.


	15. Ember

Arthur watched with curiosity as the humans made their wedding preparations. He couldn't fathom why so much energy was wasted on such a frivolous thing, really. Irunya twittered constantly about foods she'd like to have prepared and what outfit she might wear and colors and patterns...all of which one-sided discussions Arthur was the captive audience for as she administered medicines to him. She had even scrutinized which colors _he_ should wear at the ceremony; Arthur prayed she would give him something to knock him out one of these days when she visited.

The other women in the village were heavily involved as well. Leesy stopped by with Irunya frequently over the next weeks, assisting with her plans and coming up with new ideas. The men of the village stopped by the house to congratulate Matthew on occasion, but at least they didn't talk for long.

But the most interesting subject of all to observe was Alfred.

He was attentive to Arthur, as he always had been, but he was oddly subdued. Arthur knew it had everything to do with discovering his identity, but he kept his questions to himself. Arthur could almost see them brimming in those sky-blue eyes, all of the words he restrained in favor of...well, Arthur wasn't quite sure. Perhaps he was overwhelmed by this sudden marriage? Arthur was happy about it at least; he'd have Alfred exclusively to himself in the house from now on.

No, that was ridiculous. He couldn't stay. Francis was out there, planning, no doubt coming up with another foul scheme which Arthur had to thwart. There was simply no time to be wasted. As soon as he was healed up, he would take his leave and make plans of his own.

Besides, it wasn't fair to Alfred for him to remain here. He had lost count of the number of lives he had managed to destroy, and he didn't want this kind boy from the human village to be yet another one. He would forget about him eventually, anyway. Humans were quite robust when necessary, right?

He sighed, stretching his arms over his head and looking out over the Moor through Alfred's window. It was raining today, the sky tinged an icy gray. Alfred had left a while ago, most likely to complete chores or whatever it was he was tasked with for that afternoon. Still, Arthur couldn't help but look forward to his return.

* * *

Alfred shoved his hands into his pockets as he trudged through the drizzling rain. It was miserable out, but at least it gave him a reprieve from working in the fields for the time being. And now that he finally had a few moments, he hoped to find some information.

He knocked on Leesy's door with trepidation. Part of him wanted to pretend that Arthur hadn't told him about being Fae, but another part of him screamed for answers. If anyone knew in this village, it would be Fhinn and his wife. Fhinn thankfully wasn't home during the day, usually working on something or other for the village. After Fhinn's outburst during the hunting trip, Alfred felt much more comfortable asking Leesy questions regarding the mysterious Folk than him. He still wasn't quite sure what that had been about. Almost as if--

"Why, Alfred! What brings you here?" Leesy squealed happily as she threw the door open and gestured for him to come inside.

"I just...can I ask you a few things?" Alfred blurted awkwardly as he closed the door behind him. Leesy looked genuinely concerned as she nodded.

"Of course you can, Dear," she said with a soft smile as she pulled a chair out for him to sit down, "What's troubling you?"

Alfred hesitated, staring down at the knotty pine tabletop. She had been working on something (probably for the wedding, seeing how that was all anyone ever talked about lately), with scraps and yarn and needles strewn about her workspace.

"Leesy, uh...what can you tell me about...the Folk?" he managed to stammer eventually as he felt his cheeks reddening with shame. She must think he was being ridiculous, asking such things.

Yes, yes she did, he decided as he looked up at her. She was looking him over studiously, the tiniest hint of contempt flickering through her worry. No, contempt wasn't right...more like disbelief?

"The Folk?" she repeated after a moment's pause, "Alfred, aren't you a little old fer these types o' stories?"

"But you believe in them, right?" Alfred asked worriedly.

"Of course I do, but they have nothin' to do with us," she insisted as she reached out and touched Alfred's hand, "They let us alone as long as we let them alone, I say,"

"But what about the ones that interact with humans?" Alfred pried, "Like...like in the legends,"

"What about them?" Leesy asked as she tilted her head, studying him carefully.

"The ones that pretend to be human," Alfred continued.

"You mean Changelings?" Leesy asked with a frown.

"No," Alfred sighed, licking his lips nervously, "Like when humans run into them. How they can choose to...befriend a human,"

"Ah, like in the Faerie Rings," Leesy deduced with a nod, "How they trick mortals into dancin' with 'em?"

"Not...quite," Alfred stammered as he pulled his hand away, "Like...like pretending to be a human in order to blend in with them. Have you ever heard of anything like that?"

Leesy frowned thoughtfully, leaning back in her seat.

"Can't say that I have," she answered finally, "I don't see how one of them could manage to fool a human into thinking it was one of 'em, really. I'm certain a human would recognize one right away,"

"How?" Alfred asked excitedly.

Leesy paused, shaking her head with a smile.

"Well they're quite beautiful, the legends say," she laughed, "Someone that good-lookin' would be bound to draw some attention, wouldn't they?"

Yes, they certainly would. Arthur _was_ beautiful.

"But say that they _could_ disguise themselves," Alfred proposed as he leaned his elbow on the table, "Well enough to fool humans,"

"Oh, Alfred," Leesy wheezed as she laughed, "They certainly wouldn't act like humans. Even if, and I mean IF, one of the Folk decided it would strike his fancy to pretend to be a human, he wouldn't be able to hide his nature,"

"...nature?" Alfred repeated, intrigued.

"Sure," she reasoned with a shrug, "The Folk have their own way, ya know. Speak different, act different...have their own customs 'n' such,"

Alfred paused to consider this as Leesy rose from her seat to retrieve something from a shelf above the table. True, he had noted a strange dialect in Arthur's speech, but his language was flawless. He clearly was well-versed in human tongues, and as far as how he behaved? He seemed shy, a little grumpy at times, but not unusual to the point where Alfred might think he wasn't human.

"What makes you ask this?" she asked as she sat back down, a pair of sewing needles in her hands with a span of yarn between them. Some kind of scarf or something, Alfred figured.

"Uh-" Alfred stammered.

"It was Fhinn, wasn't it?" Leesy snapped, narrowing her eyes and pursing her lips, "Ugh, that man, I swear. Obsessed with the Folk, always tellin' stories about 'em. What a way to ruin a good hunt,"

"No, he didn't--" Alfred tried to interject.

"I mean if ya really were lookin' to tell the difference I suppose you could just try to get a lie out of 'em," she reasoned with a bemused smile.

"What?" Alfred asked, although part of him feared she was just joking around at this point.

"The Folk never tell a lie, Alfred," she explained with a sly grin, "Nothin' they hate more 'n' oathbreakers 'n' liars, legends say. They _can't_ lie. Goes against everything they believe, I suppose," she added with a shrug.

Alfred gulped.

_"... a deal's a deal, and she came through for me when the time came,"_

"Alfred? Are you all right?" Leesy asked suddenly, looking him over with a worried frown.

"Y-yeah! Yeah, I'm fine," he lied as he forced a smile, "I just gotta get going...thanks, Leesy!" he blurted as he shot out of his seat and awkwardly made his exit.

"Feel free to stop by any time, Dear!" she called as he closed the door behind him.

He leaned against the doorframe for a moment, heart racing. So they couldn't lie. Seemed that he had heard that theory sometime before, long ago. Fhinn probably had mentioned it or something when he was young.

Still, he thought as he shoved his hands into his pockets and made his way back to the house, if that was true, then what could that man in the woods have been saying? If it wasn't a lie, then--?

He jumped as lightning flashed from overhead, accompanied by a mighty clap of thunder that shook the ground beneath his feet.

"Great," he mumbled irritably as the sky opened up. The rain fell in heavy drops, drenching his clothing and hair as he stubbornly plodded up the hill to his home.

* * *

"UGH," he announced as he threw the door open and stepped inside.

"It's raining," Arthur stated matter-of-factly from his perch at the table, resting his chin upon his hands. Alfred cackled, shaking his wet bangs out of his eyes.

"You think?" he said sarcastically as he kicked the door shut behind him, "It's awful out there. Where's Matt?" he asked, looking around.

"He left a while ago," Arthur answered with a shrug, "I suppose he has a lot to do, with the wedding and all,"

"...yeah," Alfred muttered, that all-too-familiar pang of sadness gnawing at him. Sure, he was going to miss his brother after his marriage, but there was a deeper element to it he couldn't quite put his finger on.

He trudged into his bedroom, throwing his wet clothes onto the floor and fishing around for dry ones in his wardrobe. What _was_ it that bothered him about Matt getting married? He was happy with Arthur; he had no reason to be jealous.

But was it really jealousy, though? More like...remorse? Regret that no matter what he wished, he would never be able to wed Arthur like Matt was marrying Irunya. He paused; was that it? The village customs simply left no room for such an arrangement. Cultural tradition aside, Arthur wasn't even human. He could never spend the rest of his life with him. He could never-

He jumped as a warm palm flattened itself against his back.

"...Arthur?" he squeaked, that familiar spark whenever they touched sending shudders down his spine.

"That's stupid," Arthur answered with a disapproving cluck of the tongue, "You need to dry off first," he added as he took his hand away, "There's no point in putting dry clothes on over wet skin,"

"R-right," Alfred sputtered, clutching his shirt to his chest and praying it covered him completely. Arthur appeared completely unfazed by his nakedness, tilting his head at him curiously. Really, though, what Alfred wouldn't give to have Arthur naked right along with him, limbs entangled and--

"Are you all right?" Arthur asked suddenly, "You look rather sickly," he noted.

"What was that?" Alfred demanded, steeling himself.

"What was what?" Arthur asked mechanically.

"You know what," Alfred pressed, "That...weird feeling when you touch me. What is that?"

Arthur opened his mouth, then closed it with an audible click. He licked his lips, eyes darting around the room nervously.

"Arthur," Alfred coaxed.

"I am not sure what it is," Arthur conceded with a sigh, "Only that it is...some form of magic. Energy between us, somehow,"

"Magic?" Alfred repeated, dumbfounded, "Does...does everyone have that? Like, if Matt or Irunya touches you or--?"

"No, it only occurs with you," Arthur answered with a shrug, "I have yet to discover the cause,"

Alfred paused, licking his lips nervously. It had occurred several times that he recalled, whenever they touched hands or--

Wait.

"So...when we kiss...?" Alfred stammered as he thought aloud to himself as Arthur fidgeted and turned away. He suddenly was very interested in the view of the closed shutters, refusing to look at him. The silence between them dragged for a moment, broken only by the thundering of the rain onto the roof above them.

"Arthur, is that why you...?" Alfred trailed off, throwing his hands into the air in frustration, "Damn it, Arthur, at least _look_ at me when I'm speaking," he growled irritably.

Arthur reluctantly turned toward him, eyebrows migrating into his hairline with a bemused smile on his face.

"What?" Alfred asked flatly, folding his arms over his chest.

"Well, I might be able to take this conversation more seriously if you weren't standing in the nude, you know," Arthur commented matter-of-factly.

Alfred felt his face burn as he quickly gathered his clothing and donned it; he didn't care that the rainwater from his skin was soaking through the fabric. Arthur shook his head with a sly grin as he took a seat on Alfred's bed.

"All right," Alfred sighed, running a hand through his wet hair, "So when that...magic, or whatever it is happens, what does it do? What's the purpose?"

Arthur stiffened, but didn't answer. Those green eyes were hiding something, Alfred could tell, but he didn't want to press too hard and have Arthur permanently maintain his silence. Arthur seemed very willing to spend time with him, to have contact as much as possible. From stealing a kiss to even sharing a bed, Arthur had insisted upon being close to him while his ankle--

"It helped you heal, didn't it?" Alfred deduced correctly, based upon how Arthur's face went pale, "The magic in me is what made your ankle better so that you could walk unassisted," Alfred blurted excitedly, "That's why you were able to go after Francis in the woods,"

But if that was true, then...

"Oh," he said quietly, licking his lips again as he looked dejectedly down at the floor, "You, uh...you didn't actually want to kiss me, did you?"

"A-Alfred--" Arthur stammered.

"I was just convenient, right?" Alfred spat bitterly, keeping his gaze fixed onto the floor, "Just a source of magical power, so you could heal faster. You..." he paused, shaking his head and clearing his suddenly rather tight throat, "...you don't care about me at all," he concluded. It was humiliating, to think that he had been used, especially by Arthur.

"No," Arthur blurted, leaping from his seat and hobbling over to Alfred, "No, that isn't true,"

Alfred paused, looking up at him hopefully. Arthur looked genuinely apologetic, almost fretful.

"Alfred, I _do_ care about you," he insisted, placing his hands upon Alfred's damp sleeve, "I..." he paused to take a deep breath, exhaling slowly, "I admit that your power has been useful to me. Whatever it is, it has accelerated my healing. But that doesn't mean that I don't care,"

"So you _did_ want to kiss me, then," Alfred stated, hope swelling in his chest to the point where it was painful, "Because you wanted to, not just because of...whatever power there is,"

Arthur didn't answer, but his silence spoke for itself. A clap of thunder rumbled overhead, punctuated by a flash of white light. It blazed through the shutters, illuminating the room as they two of them stared at one another in silence.

"You can't lie," Alfred murmured softly as he shook his head. Silence wasn't lying, after all.

He was an idiot.

A complete fool.

"Alfred--" Arthur pleaded as Alfred walked out of the room.

"Just leave me alone, Arthur," Alfred hissed as he paused in the doorway to his room. He couldn't turn around, lest Arthur see the redness in his eyes, "Please,"

He couldn't begin to describe the heartache. It was stupid, really, but he had nobody to blame but himself. He had allowed himself to be tricked, to be used. He should have known better, should have suspected immediately when someone had paid attention to him. He simply was unwanted, as he always had been. He wasn't Matt. He couldn't be Matt, no matter how he tried.

"Idiot," he cursed under his breath as he closed the door to his room behind him, separating himself from Arthur as much as he could manage while staying dry.

He stalked over to the hearth and began feeding it, tossing branches into the flames and watching them get devoured. He crouched in front of it, curling his knees to his chest and listening to the rain above.

* * *

Arthur cautiously ventured out into the other room, peering out from behind the door to Alfred's room. The fire was dying down in the hearth, reduced to a smoldering red glow. It had been a while since Alfred had stormed out, clearly upset. Arthur had wanted to comfort him, to attempt to maybe repair the bridge he had managed to burn to the ground, but words had simply evaded him. He had stood in front of Alfred, mouth agape in shock and with no soothing words to give. He was shocked enough that Alfred had discovered the pulse between them and hadn't dismissed it as his imagination, let alone that he deduced Arthur's entire selfish plan all in one sitting. He frowned at that thought; Arthur was indeed a selfish, horrible creature. All he could do was ruin, no matter--

He paused as thunder rumbled once again; the storm wasn't letting up any time soon.

He crept across the floor toward the hearth, toward the figure curled in front of the dying remnants of the fire. Alfred had fallen asleep here, resting his head upon his arm. Arthur didn't even need to touch him to tell that the lad was chilled, if his own discomfort was any indication. He cautiously reached out and swept damp bangs from Alfred's eyes, that lovely bolt of energy greeting his fingertips as Alfred mumbled in his sleep.

"I'm sorry, Alfred," he murmured as he draped one of the heavy blankets from Alfred's bed over him, "I never meant to hurt you," he sighed, tucking the blanket around Alfred's body, "I am so sorry," he added, drawing a deep breath and slowly rising to his feet. He crept back into Alfred's room, favoring his throbbing ankle as much as possible and closing the door quietly behind him.

He flopped onto Alfred's bed, drawing his knees to his chest.

As soon as he was able, he would leave.

* * *

Notes: I'm sorry this chapter took so long. Thanks to the folks who are still reading this :)

The Folk often like to take humans into Faerie Rings to get them to dance with them. Many times these dances last for years and the human doesn't realize it until (if) they are released by the Folk and they emerge decades older. In other stories, humans taken by the Folk and released are often more youthful in appearance than when they first were abducted. One thing all of the Folk have in common is their disdain for liars. If one breaks a promise or refuses to honor an oath, things can get nasty. The Fae have their own special punishments lined up for people who don't keep their promises, especially when said promise was made to one of the Folk.


	16. Glow

"I...wow," Gil managed after Alfred finished his tale. They hadn't had the opportunity to discuss what Alfred had discovered about Arthur until now, using their afternoon break from chores to sneak into the meadow in the back of Gil's family farm. Of course, he had glossed over the incident with the mysterious golden-eyed Folk in the forest, but Gil seemed more interested in Arthur than anything else. Alfred had risen early that morning to find himself in front of the fireplace, wrapped in the blanket he normally left upon his bed. Arthur must have laid it over him at some point during the night--

No. He didn't care.

"So he just was sucking the energy out of you, then!" Gil growled, turning and spitting onto the ground, "That filthy piece of--"

"Stop," Alfred hissed, shaking his head, "Just...just stop, all right?"

The whole situation was painful enough without Gil's input, really. His stomach was in knots (again), and his friend's outburst certainly wasn't soothing it. He sighed, looking out at the gray sky as Gil hurriedly mumbled an apology.

"It's just so strange," Gil mused after a few moments, "Why would you be able to give 'im magic? I mean, you're a human,"

"I don't understand it either, Gil," Alfred admitted as he rose to his feet and hoisted his pipes over his shoulder, "I'm gonna play for a bit, all right?" he added as he turned around.

"Go for it," Gil said with a nod, "You play great,"

Alfred nodded back as he took a few paces out into the meadow and placed the reed to his lips. The ground here was soft and mossy, moist from the rain the night before. The coolness seeped through his bare feet as a warm breeze rushed past. The meadow was alive, pulsing with a pure energy that Alfred alone knew. He wasn't certain why he thought he was the only one, but no one else in the village seemed to notice it.

It wasn't long before he was lost in the sounds of the pipes, the low drone forming the perfect backdrop to the lilting notes of the meadow. And that was what it was, wasn't it? The meadow, much like the Moor, had its own song. It whispered it to Alfred, and Alfred brought it to life. Isn't that the way he had always fancied it?

He had fancied Arthur too, once--oh, who was he kidding? _Still._ That hadn't changed, nor would it ever.

But why? Why did it need to be someone who didn't love him? What was wrong with him that made him this way? Matt never had this problem. Everyone loved Matt. Perfect, fucking _dear_ Matt, with his flocks of friends and admirers...

...and then there was Alfred. Poor, timid Alfred, who could barely manage to get through the day without feeling humiliated or fearing that he would say or do something to embarrass Fhinn. His entire life was spent running from the other villagers, for the most part. Gil was great, always supportive, but he just wasn't Arthur. He wasn't funny and intelligent like Arthur, grumpy and gruff and yet mysterious. As much as he hated to admit it, Alfred had become rather dependent upon his Folk friend.

No, more than friend. Only person in the damned world who understood him, or at least came close. Who at least TRIED.

...or had he?

Pretended to try. _Pretended_ to care.

He was alone, and he clearly was meant to be alone.

But why? What had he done to be made this way?

His mother...was whatever she had done what had caused this?

The meadow wasn't just singing to him now, it was screaming. A clamor of notes and pitches that Alfred feverishly tried to translate into song, blowing into the pipes with all of his might and all of the air in his lungs.

Was something wrong with him? How did that...thing in the woods know him?

_You're a human._

But _was_ he?

How could he be? Perhaps he was something...else. Something other than who he had been intended to be.

Abnormal.

Freakish.

 _Wrong_.

And that was the problem, wasn't it? Everything was wrong. Everything. Him, Arthur...both of them and everything around them was hopelessly out of alignment. He was just a stone tumbling in the raging sea, beaten and tumbled into a perfect, rounded sphere although his mind screamed that he should be jagged.

And yet there was nothing to be done about it. He was alone.

The meadow calmed its song, descending into a harmony of low, fading notes.

He was alone.

The pipes came to a stop as he slowly took the reed from his lips, looking out at the horizon as he caught his breath. How long had he been playing for? The meadow was silent now, having apparently spoken its peace.

"...Alfred?" Gil asked reluctantly from behind him.

"Yeah?" Alfred panted, turning toward him. His friend looked him over for a moment, wide-eyed, "Gil, what is it?"

"You just...that was amazing," Gil blurted with a nervous laugh, "Seriously, Alfred, that was incredible!"

Alfred didn't answer, couldn't answer, as Gil went on about how great it would be if he played like that at his brother's wedding, at his talent and his knack for music.

But Alfred barely heard any of it.

Behind Gil, peering out from a thick shrub at the edge of the meadow, stared a pair of bright yellow eyes.

* * *

Arthur sighed, leaning his head against the tree in front of Alfred's home. The sky was overcast, the chilly wind bringing with it the promise of more rain. Not that Arthur minded; he was rather fond of the tranquility that came with rain showers, of the soft plops of water joining together into a quiet melody. He used to think the same of the sea once, before...well, before Francis.

He looked up as a soft ball of green light materialized in front of him.

"During the day?" he hissed, frowning at her, "You make certain you're careful," he warned, stealing a look around to make sure they were alone, "Mint, if you're spotted, I'll have a terrible time explaining you,"

The faerie chattered dismissively at him, shaking her little head as she took her seat upon Arthur's knee and began questioning him.

"What about him?" he asked suspiciously; Mint elaborated a bit, "Well he's working now. He has chores, you know. Most humans do," he added flatly, not at all pleased with the inquisition.

Mint snorted, frowning at him.

"Well you're acting as if I've chased him off," he snapped, "Of course I'd be offended,"

"I am aware of that, thank you very much," he growled as she pointed out that Francis was still prowling about, "And _yes_ , I intend on taking care of that problem soon,"

"Well...no, not yet," he admitted, shifting uncomfortably as Mint pressed him further, "I just...well, my ankle is in no shape for running just yet, and..."

"Why do you keep asking about Alfred, hm?" he snapped, folding his arms over his chest and staring out at the Moor. How dare she insinuate such a thing? He wasn't a child, and he certainly wasn't pining after a human.

"Well, yes, he has helped me heal, but that won't happen again," Arthur sighed, throwing his hands into the air in defeat.

Mint chirped anxiously at him, distressed.

"Well...he found out," Arthur admitted as his stomach stirred restlessly. He felt terrible about how Alfred had stormed off the night before. He had grown...what was the word?... _fond_ of Alfred's company, of his laugh, his dancing blue eyes, that smile...he missed him more than he cared to admit.

"He thinks I've lied to him," Arthur explained as Mint patiently awaited more details, "I just..." he sighed again, "He thinks I don't care,"

Mint fired another question at him, sweet and innocent.

"Well of course I do," he snapped...then paused, "...oh," he blurted, surprised at his own outburst as Mint smiled smugly up at him. _Did_ he care?

No. Alfred was just a means to an end. A source of healing magic, nothing more.

Mint, damn her, sensed his unease and pressed him further.

"No, that's not what I--get off of me," he snarled, kicking his good leg and unseating her from her perch. She fluttered down and landed on the ground beside him instead, resting her head against his calf.

"I didn't mean it _that_ way, Mint," he insisted.

Mint chirped quietly at him.

"Stop making it out that I'm in love with him!" he cried, turning and glaring at her.

She smiled, raising her little eyebrows in triumph.

Arthur paled; she hadn't said "love" at all. That had been his doing.

But...was it love?

"Mint, I don't...I don't even know what that means," he admitted with a derisive snort. He had meant for it to come across as a joke, but it certainly hadn't helped how his throat had constricted just then.

Mint was in front of his face in an instant, murmuring apologies as she gently stroked his cheek.

But it was true. He had thought he had known, with Francis, but he had never been so wrong in his entire life. Wrong. That was a good way to describe his life, wasn't it? Defective. _Ruined_.

Mint still hadn't stopped apologizing, fluttering in front of him worriedly.

"No, no, I'm all right," he insisted, gently swatting her away.

It was at that point that he realized she had been trying to swipe away a tear rolling down his face; how embarrassing. When had that started? He brushed it away irritably, hissing as he accidentally brushed the brand on the back of his hand in his haste. It throbbed angrily for a moment, though it did little to distract him from Mint's fussing.

"Look at me. I'm a mess," he concluded truthfully, slumping tiredly against the tree, "I don't know what I'm doing,"

"Well, that's for certain," he laughed as Mint pointed out that he was hopeless without her guidance, "I'm thankful for a friend like you," he added with a smile.

He jumped as Mint suddenly began chattering excitedly, dancing from side to side as she spoke.

"W-what do you mean?" he squeaked, feeling heat rising in his cheeks, " 'Make it up to him?' Mint, he won't even _speak_ to me, let alone--and how would you know?" he snapped back as Mint lunged forward and pointed her finger at him accusingly, "Why are you assuming everything is my doing?" he hissed, "It's Alfred's fault for falling for me, not mine,"

Mint threw him a cool look, arching an eyebrow at him and shaking her head.

"What?" he demanded.

"So?" he quipped as she brought up a rather good point, "A kiss doesn't necessarily mean anything," he hissed.

He paused as Mint continued her argument.

"Well, perhaps for a human, yes. It might. But that wasn't why I did it in the first place," he stated firmly.

"W-well," he stammered as she pointed out that he hadn't just kissed the lad once, "The energy!" he nearly shouted, "I needed his power to heal!"

Then she had to go and ask it.

He shifted, steadfastly looking out at the Moor rather than answer her. _Had_ he liked it? Well yes, of course he had, but he was having trouble focusing on the reason. The sweet, intoxicating power that flowed between their lips was certainly enough to send him rushing back into Alfred's arms as soon as he was able, but...

"I'm thinking!" he growled as Mint pressed him for an answer. He fiddled with the bracelet Alfred had given him, absently clinking the bright-colored beads together.

"I...I don't know," he sighed, "I don't know anything,"

He tilted his head, turning back toward her as she voiced her latest idea.

"...do you think that will help?" he asked, genuinely curious. He _was_ an expert on the Unseelie, after all. Any information he could offer to Alfred about that strange one he had encountered in the forest might help Alfred overcome his hatred of him, to regain his trust.

"Well of course I won't," he said flatly as Mint warned him not to feed on Alfred if this was going to work, "I'm not a complete idiot," he added, "Well...perhaps on certain things I am,"

He bit his lip anxiously, looking down at his hands in his lap. This was unwise. As much as he wanted to mend things with Alfred, he couldn't risk it becoming anything...more. He had tried that once, and look where it had landed him--?

He gasped as he heard footsteps approaching, sprinting toward him in the damp grass as Mint leapt behind the tree in fright. Arthur rose to his feet, just in time to see Alfred running at him, blue eyes wild.

"Alfred--" Arthur began, only to be cut off by Alfred throwing his arms around his neck. Arthur wheezed as the bagpipes across the lad's shoulders swung and hit him in the ribs, but he was more concerned about Alfred. He was trembling, clutching onto Arthur for dear life as he tried to catch his breath.

"Alfred, what's happened?" he blurted, awkwardly returning the embrace.

"It's after me," Alfred managed between shaking breaths, "I-it was in the bushes. Everywhere I went. It's gonna--"

"Hush, now," Arthur soothed, rubbing the human's back gently as the trembling only intensified, "Let's go inside, shall we?" he offered, planting a chaste kiss onto Alfred's forehead.

Alfred nodded stiffly, biting his quivering lower lip as Arthur slowly led him into the house.

* * *

Alfred sank into the kitchen chair tiredly as he tried to catch his breath. He wished he had taken Gowan's spear with him, but he had been too frightened to do much else than hastily excuse himself and rush home. He had walked at first, stubbornly refusing to acknowledge what he had seen, but behind every hedge, every tree...there it was, just on the outskirts of the village itself.

"What do you want?" he had demanded, clenching his fists to keep them from shaking after the damned thing had stared him down from behind one of the barns.

"What do you think I want?" it had taunted, that disturbing voice from the forest making Alfred shiver, "Can't I just talk with you?"

"No," Alfred snapped, picking up his pace as he headed down the path. He had been trying to lose the creature, looping through odd paths and roads all over the village, but to no avail. He had circled the village twice already and it refused to leave him alone. Nobody else that he passed seemed to notice it, either.

Was it...all in his mind?

The thing laughed, a sinister cackle that gradually increased in pitch.

"Oh come now," it had teased, sliding out from behind the barn and slinking along the wall, "I _did_ give you life, after all. The least you can do is talk to me,"

Alfred stopped dead, eyes wide.

"That's right, dearie," it laughed, shrugging its shoulders, as it adjusted the unlit pipe resting between its teeth, "A life for a life, shall we say,"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Alfred demanded, "I want answers," he growled.

"Oho, answers!" the thing laughed, placing its hands behind its head, "Fine, fine, I shall give you your answers,"

There was a very tense pause then, broken only by the soft sigh of the wind as it blew across the fields and past the two of them.

"You had a nasty little accident back in the day, hadn't you?" the thing said, gesturing toward Alfred's middle with the pipe; Alfred clutched his hands to his abdomen instinctively, all too aware of the jagged scar from the scythe marring his skin. He had been sneaking around in the tall grasses, far too close to where they were clearing the field--

"Well, your mother couldn't just let you die like that...so she called out to me," the thing continued, cocking its head and carefully monitoring Alfred's expression. Alfred felt ill, his head swimming.

" _She_ called out to _me_ and proposed a bargain," the thing sighed, absently twisting the curl of hair jutting out from under deep brown bangs, "I would save your life in exchange for a favor she would do for me...so I did,"

It paused, bearing a mouth filled with rather ghastly teeth as it laughed.

"I have a fondness for tiny little humans...did you know that?" it asked with a sly grin, "They're _delicious_ ," it added with a sinister hiss.

Alfred felt the blood drain from his face, heart jolting in his chest.

"So when one was born...she brought it to me. Simple. Done," the creature concluded as it clapped its hands, "Best meal I had in years,"

"Oh come now, Alfred," it teased, giggling at his probably horrified expression, "Don't look so upset. If it weren't for your dear mother and I, you'd be dead!"

"Shut up," Alfred snapped.

The thing glared at him, narrowing golden eyes as it frowned.

"First you say you want answers, then you tell me to shut up," it sighed, "Make up your damned mind," it added hotly, placing the pipe back into its mouth with an audible clack.

"You already got what you wanted," Alfred managed, though he felt as if he was going to be sick, "Leave me alone," he added as he pivoted on his heel in the direction of the house. Arthur. He had to find Arthur.

A high-pitched cackle made his skin crawl, directly over his shoulder as he whirled around. The creature was staring up at him, its expression the very definition of madness.

"Leave you alone?" it whispered, "Oh no, my dear Alfred, you have so much to do for me,"

Alfred staggered backward, nearly losing his footing as he backed up.

"I created you, and you work for me," it stated simply, examining its fingernails nonchalantly.

"I'll never work for you," Alfred said defiantly--

He crumpled to the ground as pain erupted in his skull, blinding him as he clutched onto his head to no avail.

It ceased as abruptly as it had come, leaving him breathless and hunched onto the ground.

A pair of feet swam into view as the creature leered down at him.

"Do you understand now, Alfred?" it asked sweetly.

"What about...F-Francis?" Alfred spluttered as he struggled to sit up, "Don't you work for him?"

He immediately regretted it as his head exploded again.

"I don't work for that ingrate," it spat, "Besides, I'm getting bored with him," it added mysteriously.

Alfred gasped in relief as the pain left him once again, panting for air.

"I'll be back soon, Alfred," it promised, ruffling his hair; Alfred was instantly sick, rolling onto his side and losing his stomach.

It laughed as Alfred scrambled to his feet, looking around wildly--

But he had been alone.

* * *

"Alfred, calm down," Arthur instructed, though it did little to stop Alfred from shaking, "Tell me what happened," he added, hobbling away from the door and toward him.

"The thing from the woods," Alfred managed.

Arthur stared at him, brows furrowed worriedly.

"The one that said it knew you," he deduced as Alfred nodded.

"My mother," he blurted, holding his head in his hands, "Oh gods, Arthur, my _mother_ ,"

Arthur watched in shock as Alfred burst into tears, leaning onto the table for support. Arthur didn't have time to think as he looped his arms around him, holding Alfred and rocking him gently. He made a conscious effort not to feed from him, which was exceedingly difficult, but he was managing so far. What in the hell had happened? He wished he had been there. Perhaps he could have done something--

"S-she handed over a baby, Arthur," Alfred spluttered, "A _baby_ ,"

"Alfred, slow down," Arthur advised, though deep down he feared he knew precisely where this conversation was heading. Of course. It made perfect sense.

"I was dying, and she saved me by--" he cut himself off with a sob.

"She agreed to bring it an infant in exchange for your life," Arthur concluded sadly as Alfred dove into his chest and cried, "I am so sorry, Alfred,"

It took much longer than Arthur had anticipated to calm Alfred down, which gave him adequate time to think. So that was the reason behind Alfred's strange energy. Arthur had seen similar things happen in the past, but in those cases the lives that were spared were usually abducted and taken into the Unseelie Court. Why Alfred was allowed to remain as a human in his village was...unusual.

Moreover, how Alfred was able to maintain his life as a human was even more perplexing. Magic was overwhelming for mortals, especially for a child. But, perhaps that was it--Alfred was so young that it allowed him to adjust, to grow with his abilities.

The Moor. The trinkets--that was why Alfred could see through Glamour.

But why no Unseelie had arrived to claim him...that didn't make sense to Arthur.

"Arthur?" Alfred sniffled into his shirt.

"Yes?" Arthur asked.

"It says it w-wants me to do something for it," he managed as Arthur's blood ran cold.

"What does it want?" he asked, trying to keep his voice level as his mind raced.

"I don't know," Alfred answered dumbly; Arthur fought the urge to snarl, "But it's coming back,"

"Not if I have anything to say about it," Arthur said firmly, letting go of him. Alfred looked up at him, watery blue eyes seeking comfort.

"There are ways to ward them off, Alfred," Arthur explained with a smile, "I'll teach you,"

* * *

"Oh you're home early!" Leesy greeted as Fhinn stepped into his home. The hearth was lit, and judging by the lovely smell coming from the pot on the fire, his wife had dinner started.

"Yeah, finished early today," Fhinn stated as he closed the door behind him and flopped into one of the chairs, "How're things goin' for Matt's wedding?"

"Very well, actually," Leesy giggled as she rose from her seat to peck him on the cheek; Fhinn blushed a little, "I'm goin' to be helpin' with Irunya's dress startin' tomorrow morning,"

"Good," Fhinn stated as his wife brought him a drink, "Hard to believe Matt's old enough to wed, innit?"

"I know," Leesy sighed as she sat across the table from him with a drink of her own, "Seems like yesterday him 'n' Alfred were just children,"

"Yeah," Fhinn said wistfully, shaking his head with a sad smile, "I'm happy for 'im though,"

"Oh me too," she agreed, "Now we just have to get Alfred a nice gal 'n' both of our sons will've settled down,"

Fhinn laughed, but it was dry, and his wife noticed, but both of them said nothing. The name of their third son, their true son, hung heavily in the air between them, but that was for another time. He was gone, and nothing could be done about it.

Because of _them_ , Fhinn was sure of it, but he couldn't say it. It broke his heart to upset his wife like that. He wouldn't bring it up again. He couldn't.

"Alfred stopped by to see me yesterday," Leesy said suddenly, "Askin' about the Folk,"

"...why?" Fhinn asked, eyes narrowed.

"Who knows?" Leesy shrugged, "He's always been a curious one. I said it was because of the stories you go on about, must've been on the huntin' trip," she added flatly.

Fhinn threw her a look before taking a swig of his drink; some kind of mead.

"This is good," he commented, eager to change the subject.

"Fhinn," his wife sighed, causing him to look over at her, "I'm worried about Alfred," she admitted as she folded her hands neatly in front of her, "I think Matt gettin' married 'n' all is gonna be hard on 'im,"

"He'll be fine," Fhinn said sternly, "We've taught 'im everything he needs to know to live. And he's got the village still, it's not like he's out all by himself," he pointed out.

His wife nodded silently, taking a drink.

"And he's got Arthur to keep 'im company," she stated, "That's good,"

Fhinn got up, the legs of the chair shrieking against the floor as he stood.

"Why don't you like that boy, anyway?" Leesy demanded as she got to her feet as well.

"Something's not right about him," Fhinn stated as he headed for the door.

"He makes Alfred _happy_ ," his wife pointed out as he reached for the handle, "Isn't that good enough fer ya?"

"He just _isn't_ right, Leesy," Fhinn insisted as the turned back toward her, "You've noticed it as much as I have. How he won't mingle with the other villagers? How he can't give anybody a straight answer?"

"He's probably just shy, Fhinn, we've talked about this already," Leesy sighed tiredly.

"Then why won't he just tell us where he's from?" Fhinn asked flatly, arching an eyebrow at her.

"I don't know," Leesy said coolly, "Perhaps 'e's got somethin' to run away from. Ever think 'o' that, Fhinn? Perhaps the boy comes from a bad home. Maybe he can't go home fer fear 'o' who knows what,"

Fhinn sighed, rubbing his eyes.

"Just let 'im be, Fhinn," Leesy asked as she gently took his hand, "Alfred finally has a friend. Be happy for 'im, all right?"

"As long as this Arthur behaves," Fhinn growled as his wife snorted.

"Oh come on, dinner's almost ready anyhow," she said as she led him back to his seat at the table.

Fhinn sighed, diving into his drink yet again. She was right, as much as he hated to admit it. It was good for Alfred to have a friend besides Gil. But that Arthur would be wise to watch himself, he thought to himself darkly. This was his village, and he was going to protect it.

* * *

Notes: Sorry for this update taking so long!


	17. Smolder

Alfred wasn't sure when he had fallen asleep, but he awoke in his own bed. The trinkets he had made glinted innocently at him from the thatch ceiling, and the fireplace he hardly ever used crackled from across the room.

"Good evening," Arthur greeted from beside him. He was perched on the edge of the bed, looking him over.

"Evening?" Alfred asked blearily as he sat up, "What time is it?"

"Late," Arthur answered with a shrug, "How are you feeling?"

Alfred hesitated, trying to ignore the gnawing feeling in his stomach from what he had uncovered earlier that day. He felt sick.

"Fine," he lied as he sat up. His head hurt, and his eyes were puffy and sore.

Arthur didn't look entirely convinced, frowning as he reached out and pressed some kind of wild plant into his palm.

"What's this?" Alfred asked, examining it carefully. It was a rather tall plant, with a reddish stalk and ivory, sweet-scented flowers.

"Chew on the root," Arthur suggested, gesturing toward the plant, "It will help,"

"...thanks," Alfred murmured after a pause, looking over the strange plant once more before taking a bite of the gnarled white roots. It was surprisingly sweet, almost minty in its flavor. He looked down at his lap, not quite certain where to start. Best to begin with the simplest questions.

"How did I get in here?" Alfred slurred, stealing a look at the fireplace; Arthur noted the glance and chuckled lowly.

"Expecting a green hearth, were you?" Arthur teased, "Even I'm not that bold, Alfred,"

Alfred shrugged, half-heartedly laughing a little.

"And yes, you came in here with me a while ago," he continued, shifting in his seat beside Alfred's bed, "You don't remember?"

Alfred shook his head, helping himself to another bite of whatever herb Arthur had given him.

"Well, you were exhausted, so I suppose that makes sense," Arthur sighed, "Meadowsweet, by the way," he added, gesturing toward the root Alfred was chewing on, "It helps with a variety of ailments,"

"Thanks, Arthur," Alfred said with a smile, happy to just lose himself in those green eyes for a moment. Arthur cared, to fuss over him like this...right?

"Of course," Arthur answered, smiling back.

This was nice. Just like before, only it was Alfred lying in bed this time under Arthur's watchful gaze. Just the two of them, together. Arthur would tell him stories and praise his artwork, just like-

"Are you all right?" Arthur asked suddenly, brows furrowed in worry.

"W-what?" Alfred blurted, snapping out of his daydream.

Arthur was studying him carefully, frowning a little.

"You looked...strange, for a moment," Arthur said, tilting his head in curiosity, "Are you feeling ill?"

"No, I'm fine," Alfred insisted, shaking his head, "Just a lot going on, you know?"

"I'm sure," Arthur answered with a nod, "I will do everything in my power to help you," he added.

"...how?" Alfred asked cautiously, "Won't anything we use to ward off Folk affect you?"

Arthur paused before answering, looking up at the ceiling for a moment.

"It is a risk I am willing to take if it means keeping that one in particular away from you," Arthur said finally, "Besides, if he's aligned with Francis this may bide us more time,"

"Time?" Alfred repeated.

Something flashed in Arthur's eyes at that, a flicker of doubt Alfred didn't care for.

"You realize that I can't stay forever," Arthur stated firmly, "There will come a time where I must leave to face Francis, and it will likely be soon,"

"Right," Alfred answered, though he couldn't deny how awful it felt to think about that happening, "So where do we start?"

"We start with you resting up for a while," Arthur insisted, "You're too weak to do much now,"

"But-!"

"It will not risk going far into the village, Alfred. Trust me," Arthur reassured him, "The Unseelie tend to keep to the boundaries of human settlements. Makes them less likely to be discovered,"

"That didn't stop him from following me," Alfred pointed out, "What if...?" he trailed off, nervously stealing a look up at the closed shutters above his bed.

Arthur sighed, shaking his head.

"Would you feel better if I checked for you?" he asked flatly, as if addressing a small child.

A bolt of anger ran through Alfred at his condescending tone, but Arthur had already risen to his feet and was hobbling toward the door.

"Wait!" Alfred shouted; Arthur jumped, blinking at him.

"Sorry," Alfred muttered, embarrassed, "Uh, I just...I'm sorry. I'm sorry for earlier, you know..." he waved his hand, chewing on his lower lip in shame, "I shouldn't have snapped at you like that,"

"No, you have every right to hate me," Arthur insisted with a cockeyed smile, "What I did was less than noble, to be certain. I failed to tell you the complete story, and..." he paused, taking a deep breath and slowly exhaling it, "And it angered you. Rightfully so. I am the one who should apologize, Alfred, not you,"

"I don't hate you," Alfred blurted.

"It's all right if you do," Arthur stated.

"But I don't!" Alfred nearly screamed, swinging his legs over the side of his bed and leaping to his feet, "I don't hate you, Arth-whoa,"

He quickly sank back into bed as his head swam.

Arthur was back at his side in a flash, clucking his tongue with disapproval.

"I told you to rest," he stated firmly, tugging the blankets up to Alfred's chin, "And I'm very pleased that you don't hate me," he added quietly with a shy grin.

"I really don't," Alfred insisted, unable to hide the relieved smile that crept over his face. He could never hate Arthur, no matter what he'd done, but he was glad that Arthur knew that now. Bright green eyes crinkled at the edges as Arthur smiled at him.

"Good," Arthur said softly as he turned toward the door once again, "I will be back soon,"

"Be careful," Alfred warned, stomach churning.

"I will, don't worry," Arthur insisted, shaking his head as he smiled.

Alfred listened to him leave, to his footsteps growing ever fainter as he no doubt surveyed the land surrounding the house. It was laughable, really, with his leg in the state that it was, but Alfred was in no condition to protest.

Everything was all right now. Arthur was looking out for him. Arthur _cared_.

The thought comforted him as he closed his eyes.

* * *

It was nearly dark, the soft glow of twilight surrounding him as he slowly crept down the hill leading into the village. He would sense an Unseelie presence if one was there, for certain. Even after their departure, there was always a lingering imprint. Almost like a scent, a putrid mark of their tainted power that Arthur would recognize anywhere.

Not that he had hoped that he would have to; they were a violent, impulsive, filthy lot. Disgusting, really. The vermin of the secret world hidden from the mortal eye...oh, if only Arthur had been more vigilant in eradicating them.

Which is why Francis's strategy perplexed him so. Ambition was something Francis was certainly not lacking in, but to make a pact with the Unseelie was low, even for him. And, seeing as he was associated with Arthur (at least back then, he thought to himself with a snarl), the fact that members of the Unseelie Court would be willing to work with him made even less sense.

He paused, catching the faintest trace of an Unseelie presence. It was in the general direction Alfred had described, out toward the meadow. It was barely detectable, indicating that the creature had long since departed.

He drew a deep breath, leaning on his walking stick as he pondered the absurdity of the situation. What would an Unseelie want from a mortal?

He ticked the reasons off on his fingers as he thought them over; a human child (either for consumption or to replace with a Changeling), food, a mature human to abduct and take into the Court, anything shiny, really...but what else? And why leave a human child that was part of a bargain in a mortal village?

And most disturbing of all: why wasn't Arthur able to feel the presence of Unseelie magic from within Alfred? He had been perplexed at the strange energy the lad radiated (not to mention its intoxicating effect upon him), even moreso at the fact that Alfred could see through Glamour, but why leave him here?

He turned back toward the house, convinced that the creature was through skulking about the village outskirts for the time being. The Unseelie were not stupid creatures (especially not this one, by the sound of it). They never lingered too long near a mortal village, lest they be seen. There were several precautions Arthur could take, certainly, but having a clearer understanding of the thing's fascination with Alfred would be useful before he began.

What task could Alfred possibly do for it? He frowned; perhaps it wanted another human infant? No, there weren't any in the village that would be young enough, at least not that Arthur had seen.

He stood outside for he wasn't certain how long as he contemplated his options, finding nothing concrete as the night wind rushed past, whistling in his ears.

He sighed as he approached the house in the fading light, placing his palm onto the door and slowly pushing it open. Matthew was probably home by now, and Alfred was likely sleeping. Best not to disturb anyone if he could help it.

He crept into Alfred's room, noting that the fire in the hearth hadn't been put out. Perhaps Matthew wasn't home after all? He walked over to Alfred's bed, smoothing back the sleeping lad's bangs. Alfred murmured something, but Arthur was unable to make it out. Not that it mattered; he was just glad Alfred had been able to get back to sleep.

He sighed, looking over at the hearth and watching the fire slowly die. If he was honest with himself, he was relieved that Alfred had returned to him. It had been out of fear, true, but nonetheless he had Alfred all to himself once again.

He smiled, feeling that tempting surge of power resting just beneath Alfred's skin.

No. No, it wasn't worth losing Alfred's trust again. Besides, he was vulnerable right now. He needed a friend, not a parasite.

A friend...or perhaps more?

"Stop it," he scolded himself, grabbing Alfred's chair from its place beside the bed and plunking it down by the fireplace. He stared into the flames, watching the tendrils rise and fall.

Damn Mint and her ridiculous "observations." He was being absurd. He was unlovable, Francis had been enough proof of that. And he always managed to destroy everything he cared about. Everything he touched, every life he entered: ruined. Because that was what he always did, without fail. Ruin.

Perhaps Alfred's life would be the one thing he could manage to keep intact.

He just needed to keep a safe distance.

* * *

"Are you sure about this?" Alfred asked with an uncertain frown.

"Yes," he answered confidently, "This will create a perimeter. If you are worried about this thing getting into the village, this should prevent it,"

"All right," Alfred sighed as he knelt down and began driving the fifth iron rod into the ground along the edge of the meadow. The Folk did hate iron, after all. Arthur's reaction was enough proof of that, with his sudden curtness and the slight cringe on his face every time Alfred's hammer struck the rod with a clang.

"But this is making you sick," Alfred lamented.

"Not if I stay away from them," Arthur elaborated, "And the sooner you get those in place the sooner I can do so," he snapped, stomping his walking stick onto the ground in agitation.

"I'm going as fast as I can, here," Alfred snapped back, bringing the hammer down with more force than was necessary and noting with satisfaction how Arthur flinched.

"The hell are you doing?" someone asked from behind them.

Alfred turned around, waving to Gil with a sheepish smile.

"Just...working," he answered as he rose to his feet.

Gil frowned at him, eyes flicking from Alfred, to Arthur, then back to Alfred again.

"On what?" he asked, gesturing toward the rods in Alfred's hand, "What are those for?"

"To ward off Folk," Arthur answered matter-of-factly, "Alfred is taking precautions, that's all,"

Gil looked him over for a moment before turning back toward Alfred, frowning deeply.

"And...we should be worried about them storming the village? Is that it?" he demanded as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"No, it's just a precaution," Alfred explained as Arthur opened his mouth to speak, "Really, Gil, it's fine,"

"Doesn't seem fine to me," Gil insisted, "And won't that have an impact on you?" he asked as he turned toward Arthur again, "How do I know you aren't up to something?"

"Gil," Alfred warned.

"I gotta ask, Alfred," Gil snarled, "Stay out of it,"

Arthur looked him over, those emerald eyes flashing dangerously in obvious agitation. Alfred was about to intervene, but found that there was no need.

"Gil," Arthur started, leaning on his walking stick with a sigh, "If I was truly a threat, to Alfred or to this village at all, do you really believe that I would consent to iron being placed around it, let alone be a part of setting it up?"

Gil narrowed his eyes, but said nothing.

"I am essentially trapping myself," Arthur added pointedly, "Would someone with malicious intent agree to such a thing?"

Gil mumbled a hesitant "no" under his breath, but didn't take his eyes off of Arthur as Alfred set up another rod to pound into the ground. He tried to make quick work of it, wanting to move on so he could start his chores. They had gotten an early start, but the less attention he drew to what he was working on, the better. The village was too small, with far too many nosy people-

"What's all this?" a gruff voice asked from behind him; Alfred leapt to his feet in panic, dropping the one remaining rod onto the ground. It bounced into the grass, though Alfred didn't see where it landed. Fhinn smiled at him, though (as usual, when looking at Alfred), it didn't quite meet his eyes. His hands were folded across his chest as he looked them over.

"Just chatting, Fhinn," Gil intervened with a crooked smile, "Gonna get out into the fields soon, though. Right, Alfred?"

"Right," Alfred answered stiffly.

Fhinn's gaze wandered over Alfred, then Gil, and finally rested upon Arthur; Alfred gulped.

"Well, Arthur, you seem to be doing well in spite of yer injury there," he pointed out with a nod in Arthur's general direction.

"Yes, I am," Arthur answered curtly.

Alfred fought not to squirm at the awkward silence that bloomed between them.

"Yeah, we're just about ready to get working," Gil offered nervously.

"I can see that," Fhinn conceded with a nod, "Don't let me keep ya,"

Alfred slowly exhaled the breath he had been holding, scouring the ground for the rod he had dropped.

"It's over there," Fhinn stated, gesturing toward where Arthur was standing a few paces away. How in the hell had it gotten over there...?

"Th-thanks!" Alfred stammered as he moved to pick it up.

"Arthur, give 'im a hand, will ya?" Fhinn suggested, "It rolled over by yer foot, there,"

"No that's fine-" Alfred stated as he moved to pick it up.

"I asked Arthur to do it, Alfred," Fhinn added. Not loudly, not forcibly, but with a cold sternness that gave Alfred pause. He looked up; Fhinn was frowning at him, clearly expecting him to obey.

Alfred hesitated, watching Fhinn's gaze flicker onto Arthur again.

"Well?" Fhinn asked, "Can't you help the lad out?"

Arthur just stared at him, eyes flashing dangerously.

"I've got it, really," Alfred blurted as he swept over and picked the rod up, "Thanks!"

Fhinn looked the lot of them over once more before nodding and heading back toward the village, a thoughtful frown curled above his beard.

"What was that about?" Gil blurted.

"He knows," Arthur stated ominously.

Alfred whirled to face him in a panic. Arthur looked back at him with an unreadable expression, though his eyes hadn't lost that strange glint since Fhinn had confronted him.

"He was taunting me," Arthur continued, leaning on his walking stick and shaking his head, "He knows I can't touch that," he added, gesturing to the rod in Alfred's hand.

"So...what does that mean?" Gil asked, folding his arms.

"Nothing," Arthur concluded with a tiny smirk, "He can't do a thing about it. No one will believe him,"

Alfred exchanged a worried glance will Gil as Arthur began walking toward the village between them.

"You finish setting that last one, Alfred," Arthur instructed as he hobbled back toward their house, "And then we'll talk about further preparations,"

* * *

Arthur sighed and plucked Alfred's arm off of him; Alfred mumbled something in his sleep and rolled over. He had been able put the human's mind at ease, strategically placing iron around the village and discreetly mixing shavings of rowan wood from that awful spear of his into the fields. It would be a deterrent, at the very least.

Now if only there was a way for Arthur to deter that damned village elder.

He snarled, looking up at the dark ceiling. The oldest trick, really, trying to entice him into holding iron. A fool's mistake. Now Arthur knew what he knew, and Arthur was very good at being careful. Not only that, but he would be certain to make things...uncomfortable, to say the least.

He grinned as he pulled the blanket up to his chin, listening to the sound of Alfred's shallow breathing as he closed his eyes. He wouldn't be in the village for long, but he could at least have a little fun with it before he left.

* * *

It was late. Far too late for this kind of nonsense.

"Alfred, you're certain this can't wait until morning?" she snarled as she pulled her shawl tightly around herself. The night air was a little chilly, especially with the breeze.

He shook his head as he led her through the village, past the fields and toward the woods. He had stated that he needed her help, that it was absolutely imperative that she come with him as quickly as possible, but really?

She gasped as a gust of wind whipped her shawl in front of her face; she tore it away irritably.

She blinked; Alfred was running toward the forest, barely visible in the darkness.

"Hey!" she shouted as she gave chase, "Alfred, where are you going? Wait!"

She stopped dead as the moon came out from behind the clouds, bathing the surrounding forest in pale, silver light. She was in a clearing, a circular patch of grass surrounded on all sides by trees.

The surrounding woods were silent, blanketed in long shadows and misty moonlight. It was as if Alfred had simply vanished, but how? She had just seen him moments before, hadn't she?

"Hello?" she called hesitantly, instinctively grabbing a strand of her hair and tugging on it, "Alfred, this isn't funny," she warned, squinting into the trees. Perhaps she should just leave. There was no shame in refusing to help if he went and disappeared on her, after all.

"I'm leaving," she stated firmly, tugging on her hair as she pivoted her heel.

She yelped, staggering backward as a figure stepped into view from behind her. He certainly wasn't Alfred. He wasn't as tall as Alfred, and his hair was a deep brunette, his eyes a...lovely golden color. Golden, like dandelions.

"Are you lost, my dear?" he asked, voice so sweet and concerned as he approached her.

Eyes golden, like...daffodils.

"You're a beautiful little thing," he commented, smiling around the pipe resting between his lips as the breeze playfully tossed a strange spiral of hair behind his ear.

...golden, like the sun.

"Tell me your name," he stated, reaching up and plucking the strand of hair from her hand. She watched the fibers slide between his slender fingers, felt them caress her face as he smiled at her.

"Elizabeth," she breathed.

Golden, like fine jewelry. Like the ones she fancied that Queens wore at balls in their castles.

"Elizabeth," he repeated with a beautiful smile, "Would you walk with me, Elizabeth?" he asked, reaching for her hand.

Golden, like...flame.

She slipped her hand into his as her breath caught in her throat and shivers ran up her arm and those eyes those golden eyes looked into hers-

"Elizabeth," he whispered, pressing their lips together.

The ground is soft here

soft like his hands

like his lips

silver moonlight and golden eyes

so pretty

so perfect

so warm, warm hands all over her

warm skin

warm skin against cool soil

warmth all over

inside

perfect perfect perfect-

can't breathe

don't go

stay

please...

please stay


	18. Wildfire

"Alfred, wake up," Arthur snarled as he tried to scoot out from underneath the human. He had flopped over him at some point during the night, as if he had forgotten which side of the bed he was supposed to be on.

He grunted, trying to shove Alfred off of him to no avail.

Fine. He had forced him to this, after all.

A snap of his fingers and a startled yelp later, Alfred leapt off of the bed and clumsily landed on the floor.

"OW," Alfred declared, rubbing his chest where Arthur's flame had hit him, "You burned me!"

"And _you_ were squashing me," Arthur snapped as he sat up, quenching the flame with a flick of his wrist.

"Well why didn't you just wake me up?" Alfred growled as he stood, glaring at him.

"I believe that's precisely what I did," Arthur answered sweetly, curling his lips into a smirk.

Alfred huffed, stretching as he walked across the room toward the wardrobe.

"Alfred, what happened to your shirt?" Arthur asked, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"Huh?" Alfred asked as he turned around, "What do you mean?"

Arthur frowned, hobbling toward him and examining the lad's clothing. It was riddled with pine needles and dirt, not to mention his hair...

"What the hell?" Alfred whispered as he looked down at his filthy clothes. It was as if he'd been outside working; even his palms were covered in dirt.

"When did you go out last night?" Arthur asked, "I never heard you," he added with concern. He was a fairly light sleeper...that was unusual.

"I...I don't remember," Alfred stammered, throwing Arthur a panicked look.

"Perhaps you were sleepwalking," Arthur suggested, though his instinct told him otherwise.

"...maybe," Alfred said uncertainly, "I just...outside? Why would I have gone out there?" he muttered, looking down at his dirt-stained hands.

Arthur frowned, leaving Alfred alone with his thoughts for the time being. If the pine needles were any indication, the lad had ventured off into the woods sometime during the night. The woods in which that Unseelie lurked, no doubt, past the barrier of iron Alfred himself could pass through but this creature could not. It was as if--

"Arthur," Alfred asked, snapping Arthur from his trance.

He looked positively horrified, blue eyes wide in a pale face.

"Do...do you know what happened to me?" he asked timidly as his voice wavered.

Arthur shook his head as he stepped closer.

"I'm afraid I'm not sure, Alfred," he admitted.

"It's that...thing, isn't it," Alfred said weakly, "The one that's following me. Arthur, what if--?"

"Alfred, don't," Arthur warned, not wishing to frighten the lad any further, "We don't know what actually happened,"

Alfred looked him over worriedly, gulping.

"It may have been something as simple as you being nervous about the wedding," Arthur stated, careful to spin his half-truths in a way Alfred couldn't detect, "You are performing today, right? Surely that could make one nervous and cause him to sleepwalk, right?"

"I...guess," Alfred reasoned, exhaling slowly, "I-I mean, maybe...?"

"Then don't fret over it," Arthur encouraged with as warm a smile as he could manage, "Let's not worry if there's no indication that we need to. The village is safe, we've created a perimeter so the Unseelie cannot enter. The villagers are safe. You are safe,"

Alfred exhaled again, nodding his head and licking his lips nervously.

"Now, we have a wedding to attend, do we not?" Arthur added brightly, "Best to get to it,"

Yes, best to get to it. Best to distract Alfred from whatever had transpired that evening.

He managed to smile, which Alfred took as comforting, though his thoughts raced. What in the world had that creature wanted from Alfred? And how was it that it could bid him to pass through the iron barrier?

One thing at a time, for Alfred's sake.

One thing at a time.

* * *

Arthur frowned, looking into Matthew's mirror and wondering how absurd he must look to the villagers. He had managed to get himself into one of Matthew's formal outfits, a kilt and jacket bearing the tartan of his and Alfred's family. Brazen streaks of red and emerald green danced across the deep blue field of his kilt, marred only by the intricate leather sporran hanging below his waist. Arthur sighed; he must look ridiculous. Still, it was kind of Matthew to lend him an outfit to be presentable for his wedding. He smoothed out the jacket, turning to the side to see if the dark stockings Matthew had loaned him were of even height on both legs.

He sighed; what was he doing? He wasn't human. He didn't belong here. Mortal ceremonies were meaningless to him, pitiful compared to the ancient celebrations of the Folk. He smiled sadly at the thought, of the Great Hall of the Queen lighting up with the ethereal light of the spirits...of Mint, dancing in her pool of pale green light in the sight of the Court...of himself, proud and strong in his crimson robes...

But those days were gone, he thought as he rubbed the brand on the back of his hand.

They would be no more.

"Hey," Alfred called from the doorway as Arthur whirled to face him, "Well? How do I look?" he added as he walked in and held his arms out.

Arthur didn't answer, distracted by...everything. He had never noticed quite how long Alfred's legs were, how muscular. All that walking around in the woods, no doubt. And how lovely his wheat-blonde hair was, especially next to dark blue. And those arms of his, strong enough to carry him--

"I look horrible, don't I?" Alfred lamented, physically deflating.

"N-no!" Arthur stammered, "No, you look...you look..." he cursed himself for not being able to find the right words. He couldn't say the ones he was thinking, that was for certain. That would be simply indecent.

"Stupid?" Alfred offered glumly, shuffling in front of the mirror to survey the damage.

"No," Arthur insisted. Why couldn't he just TALK? He could barely breathe, to be honest, but he couldn't let Alfred know that.

"Dumpy?" Alfred asked, tilting his head and tugging nervously at his jacket.

"No, Alfred," Arthur snapped, "You look...ah, you...you look..."

"It's my hair, isn't it?" Alfred lamented, licking his fingers and trying to smooth his unruly bangs.

"No!" Arthur practically screamed, "You look--"

"Look, Arthur, if I look terrible you can just say--"

"BEAUTIFUL!" Arthur cried before he could stop himself, watching his face turn red in the mirror as Alfred blinked at him. Well he had gone and done it now, hadn't he?

"What I mean to say is, ah, Alfred, you look...nice," Arthur stammered, clearing his throat, but the damage had already been done. Crimson blossomed on the apples of Alfred's cheeks as he blinked into the mirror, clearly embarrassed.

Arthur, however, was more focused upon hating himself. What was the matter with him?

"Arthur," Alfred said quietly, causing Arthur to look at him through the mirror.

"Yes?" Arthur chirped, only to be cut off by Alfred pressing their lips together. Arthur flung his arms around him before he could stop himself, lost in the moment as he did his best not to feed--

Alfred smiled down at him as they separated, eyes twinkling.

"Thanks, Arthur," he murmured, "You look beautiful too,"

Arthur didn't speak, couldn't speak--

"You two ready?!" Matthew cried from the front doorway, "We're going to be LATE if you don't hurry up!"

"Calm down, Matt, we're ready," Alfred laughed as he helped Arthur out of the room. Matthew looked positively homicidal, no doubt nerves getting the better of him as he glared at them from the doorway.

"Just...hurry it up, will ya?" Matthew sighed.

Alfred clapped him on the shoulder as he hoisted his bagpipes over his arm, laughing.

"You'll be fine, Matt," Alfred reassured him, "Irunya loves you. It will be fine,"

Arthur watched the other mortal's expression, visible relief washing across his face as he nodded.

"Thanks, Alfred," he said with a grin, "Thanks,"

* * *

But it wasn't fine.

The town square had been decorated for the wedding, flowers and ribbons and all kinds of meal preparations painstakingly laid out. The entire village was gathered, donned in their finest, but something was...off.

"Alfred!" Gil shouted as he made his way toward them in the crowd. His family's black, white, and red tartan only served to draw attention to his hair, which flew about him wildly as he ran.

"Alfred, something's wrong with Elizabeth," he panted, "She won't come out of her house and she's been babbling nonsense all morning,"

"Is she running a fever?" Alfred asked, "Have you told Leesy?"

"Yes, I've told Leesy!" Gil snapped, running his hands through his bangs, "Irunya's with her too. She just...I just don't know, Alfred,"

"When did she take ill?" Arthur asked from beside him, leaning on his walking stick as he listened intently.

"I'm not sure," Gil admitted, "But her mother said she was fine yesterday. Must've hit her this morning? I-I don't know,"

"She's in good hands with Irunya and Leesy though," Alfred reasoned, "I'm sure she'll be fine,"

"Yeah, but--" Gil paused, looking around before lowering his voice, "She keeps saying your name, Alfred," he added quietly, "Can you come see her? Please,"

"Of course," Alfred agreed, turning toward Arthur.

"Go on," Arthur said with a nod, "I'll be fine here,"

Alfred nodded back, following Gil through the crowd and down the hill toward Elizabeth's home.

* * *

He barely recognized her.

"Alfred!" she cried, wide, sunken eyes fixed upon him as she rushed forward and clutched at his arms, "Alfred! I've been waiting for you!"

"H-hello," Alfred managed, though he had to admit that he was horrified. Her hair was disheveled, dress hanging oddly off of her, as if she hadn't donned it properly that morning. Elizabeth always looked put-together, and everyone in town (especially Gil) had always considered her as pretty. Now, however...she looked positively sickly.

"Elizabeth, are you all right?" he asked as she looked up at him with a crooked smile.

"Your friend, Alfred," she breathed, "Where is he? Where can I see him?"

Alfred blinked, throwing a frightened look Gil's way. He frowned, cautiously moving forward as Elizabeth's mother wept from the other side of the room with Irunya and Leesy. A kettle rested upon the table between them, no doubt filled with some kind of herbal tea.

"Tell me!" Elizabeth cried, shaking Alfred's wrists.

"Who do you mean?" Alfred asked worriedly.

"Your friend!" she laughed, "Your handsome, wonderful friend," she sighed, "Where is he?"

"...do you mean Arthur?" Gil offered.

Elizabeth's gaze snapped onto him, sharp and aggravated.

"No, I do NOT mean ARTHUR," she spat, turning her attention back onto Alfred, "You know who I mean, Alfred. You know the one,"

"I...I'm sorry, but I don't," Alfred admitted.

"LIAR!" she cried, digging her nails into Alfred's wrists. He yelped, pulling away from her in horror as she launched herself at him, "YOU KNOW WHERE HE IS! I KNOW YOU DO!"

Alfred watched helplessly as Leesy instructed for the others to hold her down; it was all Gil, Leesy, and Irunya could do to restrain her, the way she thrashed about.

"Elizabeth, wait," Alfred said as he cautiously approached her; she froze, looking at him as if she was a cornered animal, "I think Leesy has some tea for you to drink, right?" he asked; thankfully, Leesy nodded hastily. Something to knock her out, with any luck.

"If you drink whatever they give you, and do everything Leesy instructs, I'll tell you where you can find him. All right?" he lied, watching her carefully.

Elizabeth glared at him for a moment before nodding, taking a cup from Leesy's trembling hands and drinking it down.

"I did it. Now tell me," she demanded.

"You need to rest, Elizabeth," Leesy instructed as Elizabeth whirled to face her, baring her teeth.

"Shut up," she hissed.

"Elizabeth, our deal was that you'd listen to Leesy, remember?" Alfred managed, though his voice quivered. It was as if she was possessed.

"For how long?" she demanded, smacking her palms onto her lap in irritation.

He looked to Leesy, who nodded.

"The medicine takes time, Dear," she stated, "You've got to give it until tomorrow mornin' or it won't do ya any good,"

"Tomorrow MORNING?" Elizabeth snapped, "Alfred, no, I can't," she pleaded, suddenly desperate as she clawed at her dress, "Alfred, I can't wait that long. I need to see him again. I NEED to see him. Please. Please, Alfred,"

"Just do as she says, and I'll take you to him tomorrow morning. I promise," Alfred lied as she burst into tears.

"She should be out soon," Leesy whispered over Elizabeth's wailing as her mother tried to comfort her, "You two should leave,"

Alfred gladly did so, escaping outside with Gil and shutting the door behind them. He slowly exhaled, trying to wrap his mind around what had just happened.

"What the hell was she talking about?" Gil demanded, "What friend?"

"I have no idea, Gil," Alfred answered, shaking his head, "I thought she was talking about Arthur too,"

Gil sighed, running his fingers through his hair and looking up at the sky.

"I'm sorry," Alfred added, "This is horrible,"

Gil nodded, refusing to look at him as he threw his hands into his pockets.

"She'll be all right soon," he said resolutely, "Probably just ate something bad, ya know? Like some kind of mushroom or something,"

"Could be," Alfred reasoned, though he doubted it.

He looked up as Fhinn approached, clapping a hand on Alfred's shoulder.

"How is she?" he asked with a worried frown.

"Not good," Alfred answered, "Leesy's giving her something to calm her down,"

Fhinn sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Of all the days," he lamented, shaking his head, "We might have to have the wedding without her,"

"Maybe she'll be well later," Gil suggested, "She might miss the ceremony but at least she can attend the feast afterwards!" he added cheerily, though Alfred knew he was putting on. His friend was terrified, just as much as Alfred was.

"Maybe," Fhinn agreed, "But first we need the bride. Irunya's been in there with 'er all morning,"

"She should be out soon, I imagine," Alfred reasoned, though his stomach churned. What friend was she talking about? And why would she think Alfred knew where this person was?

He looked up as the door to Elizabeth's home opened and Leesy and Irunya emerged, Irunya holding a fistful of flowers.

"Thank you for your help, Alfred," Irunya stated with a bow, "She's sleeping now,"

"Her mother will stay with her while we perform the wedding," Leesy added, looking up at Fhinn, "It's a shame she'll miss it, but...it can't be helped,"

"All right," Fhinn nodded, looking toward Alfred, "I'll get everyone rounded up,"

* * *

Arthur watched in bemusement as the humans gathered around Matthew and Irunya in a circle. The two of them had joined hands, which one of the villagers Arthur didn't know by name had tied together with a cord. Meant to represent the joining of two lives, of two spirits. At least, that's what Fhinn had said as the one presiding over the ceremony. Arthur had always thought that ropes and cords and the like were for _after_ the wedding, but who was he to say?

Irunya was donned in a dark blue dress, with a sash matching the kilts himself, Matthew, and Alfred were wearing. Very symbolic, he supposed. She seemed happy, although Matthew looked as though he was about to get sick. Nerves, most likely.

"We present to our ancestors this symbol, this oathing stone, and invite them to come together in celebration with us," Fhinn stated, placing a small, emerald green stone on top of the bride and groom's joined hands. It was mystifying, glinting in the early afternoon sunlight like a jewel.

"I picked it out," Alfred whispered from alongside him as Arthur nodded.

"Of course you did," he responded, taking in its beauty as Fhinn continued on with the ceremony. It was a pity, really, that none of the humans could see it for what it actually was. What a tragic gift Alfred had been given.

He frowned, looking around as he picked up the faintest trace of an Unseelie presence. Skulking about the edge of the village, no doubt, looking to cause mischief. Well, just let the miserable thing try. It couldn't get into the village if it tried now, not with the precautions Alfred and himself had taken. Still, he couldn't fathom why it would want to, especially in broad daylight.

As Fhinn droned on, the presence faded. It had given up, for now.

He jumped as everyone around him suddenly started clapping, and Irunya and Matthew kissed. The ceremony must have finally been over. Good, Arthur was getting hungry. The next phase of this whole silly ritual was to eat, wasn't it?

Oh. Not quite yet.

Alfred stepped forward, giving both his brother and now sister in-law a hug and standing alongside them. He placed his bagpipes to his lips, and began to play.

Arthur was mesmerized, drawn into the wild rise and fall of the pipes as Alfred played. It wasn't just a song he was playing, not some memorized piece hastily scrawled onto some parchment by mere mortals. No, it wasn't a song-it was a _voice_. The voice of the land itself, of the clouds overhead and of the sprawling, endless sky. Of the raging sea, the craggy rocks and every plant rising up between them--

It ended far too soon, leaving Arthur on the verge of tears from the sheer beauty of it all as the humans dumbly applauded around him. Didn't they understand what they had just heard? Was that disguised with Glamour too?

"Arthur, are you all right?" Gil asked uncertainly from beside him.

"I...yes," Arthur managed, watching Alfred as he sheepishly bowed and slung his pipes back over his shoulder.

"That was incredible, Alfred," Arthur blurted as the lad approached with a shy grin.

"Yeah, Alfred, that was awesome," Gil agreed, clapping his hand on Alfred's shoulder.

"Thanks," Alfred muttered, embarrassed.

"You go on ahead, I'm going to go check on Elizabeth," Gil offered as other villagers ran over to congratulate Alfred on his musical performance.

* * *

Arthur could barely focus throughout the festivities late into that night, barely hearing the idiotic tales of the various humans as the sound of Alfred's bagpipes resounded in his head. Alfred laughed from beside him, responding to some bawdy joke one of the others had told. Morons, all of them, none of whom recognized Alfred for the fantastic artist that he was. He was perfect, far too strong in putting up with it all and--

Oh no.

No, he couldn't do this. He was becoming too attached. He was heading down a path which would inevitably crumble, ending in Alfred's destruction.

He couldn't ruin another life. Not again.

But...

No.

He rose from his seat and hastily made his way toward Alfred's home. He needed to leave, to make preparations, to _think_.

Halfway there now, away from all the noise and distraction of the villagers.

He wasn't thinking clearly, hadn't been for quite some time now. He couldn't leave through any other means but through the Moor itself, seeing as the iron and rowan traps Alfred had set would get in the way otherwise. Yes, that's how he would have to do it. He would just--

"Arthur?" Alfred called from behind him as he approached.

"Alfred, stay back," Arthur warned, raising his arm out as he took a step backward. Alfred stopped dead, shaking his head in disbelief.

"What...what are you doing?" Alfred asked innocently, raising his hands in surrender.

"I need to leave, Alfred," Arthur blurted, "I can't stay here anymore,"

* * *

"But why?" Alfred asked. It hadn't taken him long to catch up with Arthur after he had abruptly left the party, but it still hurt to know that Arthur had been intent upon abandoning him.

Arthur was silent for a time, looking Alfred in the eye. Neither of them flinched, standing in the tense silence as the wind swept past. The light was dim, the nearby torches flickering across their stern faces.

"I have to leave," Arthur said finally, "It's the only way,"

"To avenge your honor or whatever, yeah?" Alfred pried as he felt himself growing irritated, "To find Francis?"

"It isn't 'whatever,' Alfred, it's pivotally important to me," Arthur corrected with a snarl.

"Right, sorry. I'll help," Alfred offered, a jolt of panic rushing through him at the prospect of chasing Arthur away from him. He had to keep his anger in-check.

"No," Arthur said curtly.

"Why not?" Alfred demanded, folding his arms across his chest in irritation. Arthur stared him down, sighing.

"Because, Alfred, I'm not human," he said slowly, as if addressing a small child.

"Don't use that tone with me, Arthur," Alfred growled as aggravation welled within him. So much for keeping things in-check, "What's really going on?"

"I can't tell you that," Arthur said matter-of-factly in that tone Alfred absolutely detested, "And I have to leave. You cannot follow,"

"Why?!" Alfred shouted, throwing his hands up in disbelief.

"Because that is simply the way things are," Arthur insisted.

"Not even an explanation?" Alfred yelled as he stalked forward. Arthur backed up instinctively, hands coming up as if to shield his face. Alfred felt bad about it, but let his anger ride over the guilt, "Huh, Arthur? Nothing? After all we've--?"

"No, nothing!" Arthur spat as he glared up at him, "My affairs are none of your concern!"

"But _why_ , though?" Alfred exclaimed angrily, "What are you so afraid of?!"

"RUINING YOU!" Arthur cried, eyes positively blazing as he bore his teeth at him. Arthur blinked, as if shocked by his own outburst, and cursed under his breath. Nothing Alfred recognized, of course, but something painful had definitely flickered across his face just then.

"Arthur--" he ventured cautiously.

"There," Arthur snapped as he flung his arm in the air, "I said it. Are you satisfied now?" he added weakly, hunching his shoulders in defeat.

Alfred just stared at him, mouth agape. Ruining him? What?

"Why are you still standing here?" Arthur hissed, frowning at him.

"Because," Alfred answered mechanically as he cautiously stepped closer. Arthur didn't move away, studying him, "Arthur, you aren't ruining me,"

"You have no idea what you're even saying," Arthur muttered, looking down at his feet.

"You _aren't_ ," Alfred insisted as he reached out and gingerly took Arthur's hand. A jolt of energy passed between them, crackling like lightning. Arthur yanked his wrist back with a snarl, folding his arms tightly over his chest as he glowered at him.

"Stop," Arthur ordered, "Enough of this. I am leaving, and there is nothing more to discuss," he added as he turned to leave.

"Sure there is," Alfred insisted as he put a hand on his shoulder to restrain him. Arthur went rigid as a board, staring away from him defiantly. Alfred moved to stand in front of him, planting both hands firmly on the other man's shoulders and looking him square in the eye. Watery emerald met piercing sapphire, and Alfred suddenly understood.

"Arthur," he said quietly as he shook his head, "You are _not_ ruining me. You're _saving_ me,"

Arthur arched an eyebrow at him, but said nothing.

"Before you showed up, I...ah, this is going to sound horrible," Alfred muttered, exhaling loudly before continuing, "I hated everything, Arthur. My life. My work. My village. I even hated Matt for a while,"

"But he's your brother, Alfred," Arthur pointed out in that scholar-like tone of his.

"I know!" Alfred exclaimed as he tightened his grip; Arthur winced, "That's what I'm saying. Nothing made me happy until you came along. I mean...you know what I mean,"

Arthur just looked at him.

"Anyway, Arthur, I'm not just going to give you up," Alfred stated firmly as he looked down at Arthur's face, carefully watching his expression. The corners of his lips twitched ever so slightly...the first sign of a smile, or was it a grimace?

It didn't matter; Alfred had planned this out. He had known that this day would come.

"And to make sure that I _don't_ , I am going to take an oath. Right now," he stated.

Arthur paled.

"No," he blurted as he shook his head, "Alfred, you mustn't do that,"

"Already made up my mind," Alfred insisted as Arthur took hold of Alfred's hands on his shoulders, "Here goes--"

"What if I don't honor it?!" Arthur cried as he wrenched Alfred's hands off of him.

"Oh, you will," Alfred stated knowingly, "You're Folk; you never ignore an oath. Ever,"

Arthur spluttered, trying to come up with a feasible half-truth, but came up empty. Alfred took advantage of Arthur's silence as he placed his right hand over his pounding heart.

"I hereby swear an oath to--"

"STOP," Arthur commanded, covering his hands with his ears. Alfred yanked one of them away and held it aloft as Arthur screamed in protest, trying to wrench his arm away.

"-- _swear an oath_ to stay by your side, Arthur, whatever your real name might be, from this day on out. I will be near to you. Always," he added for emphasis as Arthur abruptly stopped struggling. He looked up at Alfred sadly, his lower lip trembling.

"Oh, you fool," he whispered, "You great fool,"

"Maybe," Alfred said quietly as he strode forward and put his arms around him. Arthur hesitantly returned the gesture, breathing shallowly into the fabric of his shirt, "But I know what I want. _Who_ I want. I can't just let you disappear,"

"...you'll regret it," Arthur whispered after a few tense moments, clutching onto Alfred's shirt with trembling fists, "You've no idea what kind of monster you've just tethered yourself to,"

"Well, I'm going to find out," Alfred said as he leaned down and captured Arthur's lips with his own. It was as electrifying as it always had been, only this time with a blazing sense of urgency. Arthur seemed aware of it as well, making a muffled sound against Alfred's open mouth as he tangled his fingers into Alfred's hair. Alfred tightened his hold, drawing Arthur as close to himself as he could manage.

He came up for air, gasping as he looked down into Arthur's darkened eyes. They said nothing, only nodded as they began the journey back to Alfred's cottage. They tumbled through the doorframe, sloppily grabbing at each other between kisses and ending up sprawled out onto Alfred's bed.

* * *

Notes: Each family/clan had their own tartan, representing the fam with different colors and patterns. As far as Celtic weddings go, the tying together of the couple's hands might be where the term "tie the knot" came from. The oathing stone was a key part of ancient Celtic weddings in that it tied the couple and the community to their ancestors as well as to the land. The stone would sometimes be thrown into the sea or buried to represent it returning to the land. Cool stuff.


	19. Crackle

Alfred stretched lazily as he awoke, blowing a tuft of pale blonde hair from his face as Arthur sleepily nuzzled closer to him. He smiled, softly kissing him on the top of his head as Alfred's thoughts turned to the night before.

It had been greater than Alfred had imagined, his wildest fantasies magnified a thousandfold. Arthur's touch had actually burned at first, filling Alfred with a fire so wild and so purely magical he could barely stand it as they became one that night. How those green eyes had blazed up at him in the darkness, broken only by the light of the moon streaming in from outside. And how Arthur had moved with him, meeting his every motion with perfect harmony and those _sounds_ he had made...

He had been reluctant about removing his clothes, though, Alfred recalled as he shifted and tugged the blankets over Arthur's naked shoulders. _"But you'll see me,"_ he had said worriedly. Alfred had actually laughed, which had nearly made Arthur storm out of the house.

_"There are...scars," Arthur whispered, turning away and staring at the far wall instead, "Just let me undress and get under the covers so you-"_

_"Not a chance," Alfred whispered back, looking up at Arthur for permission as he began unbuttoning his shirt. Arthur provided no resistance, but visibly shook, "Arthur, don't be worried," he said gently, wrapping his arms around him and kissing him chastely on the lips, "I've already seen them once, remember?"_

_"But..." Arthur trailed off, biting his lip in what Alfred feared was shame._

_"Tell you what: how about you undress me first?" Alfred had suggested, leaning forward to allow Arthur better access. Arthur hesitated, looking up at him nervously, eyes flicking from his shirt and back to his face._

_"It's all right, go ahead," Alfred coaxed, smiling reassuringly as Arthur slowly ran his hands across Alfred's chest. Even though the fabric, his touch was invigorating. Alfred sighed, head falling back as Arthur painstakingly roved across his chest and torso._

_He inhaled sharply as Arthur's nimble fingers began unbuttoning his shirt, leaning into his touch and hissing audibly as Arthur's hot fingertips slid across his skin. They rested on his chest for a moment, pausing as if to ask if he was all right. Alfred managed a jumbled signal of approval as Arthur's lips joined his fingertips, drinking him in as Alfred's hands clasped tightly onto Arthur's back._

_Alfred's breath hitched as all motion abruptly ceased._

_"W-whaswrong?" he slurred, looking up at him worriedly. Arthur's brow was furrowed in concentration, glittering eyes focusing intensely on a spot directly above his navel. Alfred knew immediately what must have caught his attention as he blushed furiously._

_"Th-the farming accident from a while ago," he explained as Arthur gently ran his fingers over the scarred flesh, "I wasn't paying attention; I was a dumb kid back then, and then that's...that's how the..." he trailed off nervously, licking his lips as Arthur looked back up at him._

_"I'm sorry," Arthur whispered, cupping Alfred's face and kissing him. Alfred drew him close, grabbing at his rear and pulling Arthur into his lap. The other man broke the kiss and smiled, leaning back and quickly removing his own shirt._

_It was Alfred's turn to stare and explore as he ran his calloused fingers along Arthur's pale flesh. A jagged line ran diagonally across him, from left shoulderblade to right hip. Three other small lines marred the perfect flesh of his abdomen, white and apparently quite old, older than the larger mark. Alfred looked into Arthur's eyes; there was no missing the despair in them._

_"I'm sorry, Arthur," he whispered as he leaned down and ran his lips along the longest scar, as if he could simply kiss the offending mark away if it disturbed Arthur so, "You're beautiful," he added quietly._

_Gentle hands tipped his face upward and Arthur actually smiled at him. Warm and understanding...Alfred nearly wept. He pushed Arthur down onto the bed instead with a sigh, hissing as Arthur deftly removed the remainder of his clothes. He shivered, sinking down onto his warmth. They both gasped at the sudden contact, the intoxicating feeling of flesh against flesh._

_"Arthur," Alfred panted as he peppered his neck and shoulders with kisses. Arthur sighed approvingly, sliding his hands along the length of his spine, "Is...is this all right?" he asked breathlessly, though he could feel that Arthur was at least physically all right with everything, firm warmth pressing against Alfred's thigh driving him mad--_

_"Yes. Yes it is," Arthur whispered as he drew him close, kissing him fiercely and looping his legs around Alfred's back. Alfred shuddered, pressing against the impossibly hot body underneath him and looking down into those eyes that would be his undoing. Arthur nodded, chest heaving as Alfred slowly pressed inside._

_Heat, searing heat filled and surrounded him as he was washed away and his entire world became Arthur. His vision dissolved into emerald and porcelain, the sound of the crackling hearth drowned out by the sweet exclamations burbling from his lover's perfect lips. The air he drew was from every quivering breath Arthur exhaled, filling his lungs and giving him life. He buried his face into Arthur's neck as he said something Alfred couldn't understand, digging his nails into Alfred's back as he dared to go faster, deeper--_

_Arthur cried out, throwing his head back and sinking onto the bed as Alfred moved once, twice, and freefell into blissful surrender as Arthur's name tumbled from his trembling, swollen lips. Arthur held him tightly to himself, kissing Alfred's hair._

_They held one another for a time, listening to the sounds of their haggard breathing._

_"H-holy shit," Alfred said deliriously as he rolled over and guided Arthur onto his chest._

_"Mm," was the answer he received as Arthur quickly succumbed to sleep._

_Alfred smiled, carding his fingers through straw-blonde hair._

_And as Arthur sighed happily and unconsciously leaned into his touch, he knew in that instant he could no longer live without him._

_He didn't even want to try._

* * *

"Good morning," someone greeted.

"Hm?" Arthur mumbled as he cautiously opened his eyes. Not that he really wanted to, he was nice and warm right as he was.

Oh.

He slowly raised his head as Alfred's smiling face came into view. He smiled back; really, what other emotion could he have at this point? Alfred...was so different from Francis, in so many ways. He had actually chosen to stay with him, without being forced. Without coercion, without manipulation. Whatever self-control Arthur possessed had left him last night, and he couldn't quite make himself regret it...yet.

"Good morning," Arthur answered as Alfred shifted so they were facing each other properly. His arms looped around Arthur, drawing him close. That electrifying feeling, that energy between them crackled up Arthur's spine; he shivered.

And he had thought that merely kissing Alfred had been electrifying. Last night was...well, he probably couldn't go back to simply kissing ever again.

"You cold?" Alfred asked worriedly, clutching the blankets and tugging them over Arthur.

"No, I'm fine," Arthur sighed, "And you? Are you all right?"

"Yeah," Alfred answered with a lazy grin, "I'm more than just all right," he added, drawing Arthur in for a kiss. Ah, that wonderful energy, and Alfred was just so warm and-

"What's wrong?" Alfred asked as Arthur abruptly pushed away from him. He sat up, looking down at Alfred worriedly.

"I'm not who you seem to think I am, Alfred," Arthur blurted, scooting away from Alfred's grip, "You should not have made an oath like that," he scolded, though it pained him. The gesture had touched him more deeply than he cared to admit, actually.

Alfred studied him, tilting his head. How handsome he was, how innocent. Or at least he had been...until last night--

Oh no.

"I've already done it," Arthur blurted, panicked.

"Done what?" Alfred asked, cautiously sitting up.

"Ruined you," Arthur managed, leaping off of the bed in a panic and wrapping one of the quilts over himself, "I can't--you have to take that oath back, Alfred,"

"I can't do that," Alfred insisted, shaking his head, "I meant what I said,"

"No, you couldn't have," Arthur said as panic gripped him, "I've already corrupted you, look what you've done!" he cried, staggering backwards.

"Whoa, careful," Alfred cautioned as he jumped to his feet and steadied Arthur's shoulders, "Arthur, what are you talking about?"

Arthur just stared at him, watching Alfred's ears turn red.

"Are you-? Is this about...last night?" Alfred squeaked.

"Yes," Arthur managed, "I-I took advantage of you. I shouldn't have--"

"But you wanted me, didn't you?" Alfred asked, his voice a rather dangerous, husky drawl that made Arthur shudder.

He couldn't speak, afraid of his own response. His emotions were going to betray him again, he knew it. His loneliness, his despair, his crippling distrust and all of a sudden here was this person threatening to take all of them away at once...

"Arthur? Did you want me?"

"Yes," Arthur blurted as he leaned into him, "Yes, I did,"

Alfred smiled, relieved.

"Well good, because I wanted you too," he answered, tipping Arthur's chin up to look at him, "I still do," he added, "I want to get to know you, to get as close as you'll let me,"

Arthur felt himself melting into Alfred's arms as the quilt slid off of him. The room was cold, the fire having long expired sometime during the night.

"I want...I want to love you, Arthur," Alfred said softly, barely audible.

Arthur looked up at him, eyes wide.

It wasn't possible...was it?

"B-but only if you want me to!" Alfred stammered nervously, "I don't want to make you uncomfortable or anything, I mean, and..." he trailed off, looking away.

"Alfred," he cut him off, cupping the lad's face. His cheeks were pink, obviously flustered.

"I think...I would like to give that a chance, Alfred," Arthur managed, feeling his own face burning as Alfred blinked at him.

"Really?" Alfred asked; Arthur nodded.

"ALFRED," Arthur scolded as Alfred picked him up and whirled him around, laughing like a fool, "Alfred PUT ME DOWN," he demanded.

His request was granted as Alfred tossed him onto the bed and attempted to join him, only to have Arthur steal the remaining blankets and cocoon himself in them.

"Hey," Alfred complained, poking at the blankets, "C'mon, I'm cold,"

"Are you?" Arthur teased, "Well perhaps you shouldn't have thrown me,"

"Arthur, c'mon," Alfred whined, carding his fingers through Arthur's hair.

Arthur rolled over, smirking at him before surrendering some of the blankets. Alfred slid under them, wrapping Arthur in his arms with a grin.

"How's your leg?" he asked.

"It's fine," Arthur answered, "Better than it has been, all of a sudden," he added slyly; he hoped Alfred got the hint.

"Oh?" Alfred asked, cocking an eyebrow at him, "Well, isn't that something?"

Arthur snorted as Alfred laughed, settling into a pleasant silence.

"Arthur?" Alfred asked after a few moments.

"Yes?"

"I don't think you're as terrible as you think you are," Alfred said softly; Arthur stiffened.

"You don't know what you're talking about, I'm afraid," Arthur mumbled into the pillow.

"You called yourself a monster,"

"Because I am one,"

Arthur prepared himself for a rant, for an argument Alfred was gearing up to begin when really they should just-

"Do you know what I see?" Alfred asked instead.

Arthur blinked, looking up at him in confusion. This wasn't an argument at all.

"I see someone who has been hating himself for a long time. And that's what I see when I look at myself, too,"

Arthur blinked again, speechless.

"I want to try to change your mind," Alfred added, pecking him on the lips, "I want you to see you like I see you,"

Arthur swallowed around the lump forming in his throat, diving in for another kiss rather than being forced to speak to him. What was it about the way he spoke? It was different...very...sincere? Was that it?

"I don't see a monster," Alfred whispered as they separated, "I see someone who doesn't know how wonderful they are,"

Arthur searched for the right words for a moment, feeling heat rising in his face.

"So do I, Alfred," Arthur whispered, rolling on top of him, "So do I,"

Alfred grinned up at him, running his hands along Arthur's back, his hips...Arthur leaned into his touch, hardly believing how easy this was, how...right. It had never been this way with Francis, always impersonal and secretive...

A moan escaped his lips as Alfred's wandering fingertips playfully walked along his spine. He hissed, arching into it as Alfred rolled him over, hovering over him with a mischievous glint in his eye.

"Yeah?" he asked breathlessly.

"Yes," Arthur whispered with a sly grin.

* * *

Fhinn shoved his hands into his pockets as he shuffled up the walkway to Alfred's home. He was worried about the boy, whether or not he cared to admit it, especially now that Matthew had married. Alfred had left the party early, too. Hopefully he wasn't sick. Seemed like something was going around, based on Elizabeth's condition.

Still, it wasn't as if the boy was incapable of taking care of himself; he ought to know, having raised him to be self-sufficient and all, but still. He was spending nearly all of his time, Fhinn feared, with...questionable company.

He scowled. He did not trust this "Arthur." He clearly was one of _them_ , he could sense it, but there was no way to chase the infernal creature away from the village without endangering Alfred. Who knew what that monster would do to him if Fhinn exposed him...?

No. He couldn't let that happen.

He sighed as he approached the front door and knocked.

No response. Not that he was surprised; Alfred slept like a rock.

"Alfred!" he called, "It's Fhinn--you home?"

Nothing.

Wait...not quite.

He frowned as a faint sound caught his ear. A rapid, dull thud coming from the side of the cottage. He followed the source of the sound, curious. Perhaps the boy was working outside?

He stopped dead as he approached the window in the back of the small cottage. The shutters were closed, but it did little to drown out the...events...taking place from within.

"Oh for fuck's sake," he murmured as he felt his face start to burn. He quickly turned and practically sprinted down the hill and down the path to the village. In spite of the situation, he felt a sense of relief. Perhaps that was why Alfred was so distant all of the time : he had found himself a girl. Probably a lovely young lady (although her virtue was certainly questionable, considering what Fhinn had just overheard). Still, though, he was happy for him. Perhaps the lad would settle down and finally start getting his life on track. Start a family, perhaps. He would be sure to ask Alfred about his new lady friend the next time he saw him.

* * *

"Ah!" Arthur exclaimed, tipping his head back as Alfred suckled a spot on his neck he'd taken an interest in. He tangled his fingers in the lad's hair, tugging slightly to spur him on.

Alfred chuckled, exchanging Arthur's neck for his lips instead. Arthur enthusiastically returned the gesture as he looped his arms over Alfred's shoulders. He could do this forever, really, the other villagers and whoever else be damned. Alfred was so careful, so attentive.

"Hey there," Alfred whispered as he rolled them over to face each other.

Arthur smiled, brushing a stray clump of hair from Alfred's face.

"How'd I do?" Alfred asked slyly.

"Hmm," Arthur teased, rolling onto his back and staring up at Alfred's bejeweled ceiling, "Well..."

" _Well?_ " Alfred asked, sitting up so he could look down at him incredulously.

Arthur laughed as he sat up, grinning up at Alfred.

"You were wonderful, Alfred," Arthur murmured as the other man smiled shly, "And what of me, hm?" he added, arching an eyebrow.

"Amazing," Alfred blurted immediately, cupping Arthur's face in his hands, "You're absolutely amazing,"

Arthur leaned forward, eager for another kiss--

Alfred pulled away as a loud knock erupted from the front door.

"Alfred?" Gil called as he knocked another time for good measure, "It's Gil. You in there?"

"Y-yeah!" Alfred stammered, throwing Arthur a regretful look as he slid out of bed, "Yeah, hold on, be right there!"

Arthur joined him in hurriedly dressing, throwing a nervous look toward the doorway of Alfred's room as he stumbled into one of Alfred's shirts he had tossed him. Oh, this was just what he needed, a human to come barging in on him half-naked.

He bit back a snarl as he ran into Matthew's old room and grabbed a pair of pants. How annoying, just when things were going so well-

He stopped halfway through putting his belt on, realizing with a jolt that his ankle was completely healed. Or it felt like it, at least. Either way, he didn't need to rely on his cane.

He smirked; he would be sure to thank Alfred properly for the energy later.

Alfred poked his head in nervously; Arthur nodded.

"Coming!" Alfred called as he lumbered toward the door and threw it open. Arthur spun around, ripping the quilt off of Matthew's bed and tossing the blankets about. Best to make it look slept in, lest Gil start asking questions.

"Hey, Gil--what's wrong?" Alfred asked worriedly as Arthur walked out of Matthew's room.

He could see why Alfred was concerned. The boy was haggard-looking, eyes wild and full of worry.

"Alfred, she's gone," Gil blurted, "I can't find her. None of us can find her,"

"Elizabeth," Alfred deduced as Arthur walked over and stood next to him.

"When did she disappear?" Arthur asked sternly, recalling Alfred's strange sleepwalking incident.

"Sometime last night or early this morning, I think," Gil said as he flung his arms in frustration, "I came over to check on her around noon, but her mother said she was gone. I don't know what to do,"

"Have you gone into the woods?" Arthur asked as both Alfred and Gil threw him a look.

"The woods?" Gil blurted, "I mean yeah, but-"

"There may not be much time," Arthur warned, ticking off the possibilities in his head. If she was abducted by the Unseelie, there was no telling when she would surface again. Some had a nasty habit of holding humans captive for centuries, keeping them alive and then releasing them to a world in which all they knew was long gone. Wretched things, those creatures.

"WHAT?" Gil screamed, clutching at his hair.

"Come in, Gil," Alfred suggested, ushering him inside and hurriedly closing the door.

* * *

"What the HELL is going on, Arthur?" Gil demanded, folding his arms across his chest.

Arthur looked up at Alfred, who nodded. His stomach churned; somehow, he knew where this was headed.

"It's the thing around the village, isn't it," Gil deduced, "That's what the iron rods were for, wasn't it? It's got her!" he cried as he wrenched the door open.

"Gil, wait!" Alfred hissed, closing the door and turning to Arthur, "Is that right?" he asked.

"It is possible, based upon her sudden illness," Arthur stated with a sigh, "She might be the victim of an enchantment,"

"What makes you so sure it took her into the woods?" Gil asked with a skeptical frown.

"Plenty of places to hide, I suppose," Arthur answered, "I suggest we begin there. I can sense the presence of this...thing. It may lead us to Elizabeth," he explained.

Alfred almost wept with relief that Arthur had left out his sleepwalking incident, fearing what Gil would have done to him, but...

"Then let's GO!" Gil cried, throwing the door open again and rushing outside, "Come on!"

Alfred looked down at Arthur, who smiled sadly.

"Thank you," he whispered, taking Arthur's hand and giving it a squeeze.

"We should go," Arthur said, squeezing his hand back before following Gil outside.

Alfred nodded, steeling himself as he walked out after him.


End file.
